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Book rfi 2 ~54- 

Gopight N° _ ALt_ 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
































NID AND NOD 


\ 




I 

















' ' 1 









The door was opened and the boy peered into the dim hall 






NID AND NOD 


BY 

RALPH HENRY BARBOUR 

u 

Author of “The Crimson Sweater,’ “Harry’s Island,” 
“Team-Mates,” “The Turner Twins,” etc. 


ILLUSTRATED BY 
C. M. RELYE A 




THE CENTURY CO. 

New York and London 
1923 









Copyright, 1923, 'by 
The Century Co. 



25 - OMHOO 


©Cl A711773 

TV*t 

fb I'f 

PRINTED IN TJ. 8. A. 


SEP -7 ’23 




' CONTENTS 

CHAPTER - PAGU 

I. At the Little Blue Shop . . r • . 3 
II. Kewpie States His Case .... * 16 

III. The “A. R. K. P.” is Formed . ... 31 

IV. Practice Makes Perfect.43 

V. Laurie to the Rescue ...... 62 

VI. Laurie Talks Too Much.76 

VII. Polly Approves.93 

VIII. Kewpie Agrees. 106 

IX. An Afternoon Call.117 

X. The Coach Makes a Promise .... 130 

XI. On Little Crow ..141 

XII. On the Quarry Shelf.151 

XIII. The “Pequot Queen”.162 

XIV. A Perfectly Gorgeous Idea .... 178 
XV. Romance and Miss Comfort .... 190 

XVI. Mr. Brose Wilkins.201 

XVII. The Fund Grows.215 

XVIII. Miss Comfort Comes Aboard .... 227 

XIX. Laurie is Cornered.240 

XX. The Try-Out.260 

XXI. The Dead Letter 27(> 
















CONTENTS 


chapter pagb 

XXII. The Form at the Window ..... 291 

XXIII. Suspended! 309 

XXIY. Mr. Goupil Calls . ^ *. t * . 324 

XXY. The Marvelous Catch . 338 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


The door was opened and the boy peered into the 

dim hall. Frontispiece 

FACING 

PAGE 

A pleasant-faced little lady in a queer, old-fashioned 

dress.56 

They all accompanied Laurie to the Pequot Queen . 186 

“Nice old bus,” Laurie observed, “let’s take a spin, 
Ned” . . 288 








I 


NID AND NOD 






~ 


k 











NID AND NOD 


CHAPTER I 

AT THE LITTLE BLUE SHOP 

A BELL tinkled as the door of the little blue 
shop opened and closed, and continued to 
tinkle, although decreasingly, as the stout 
youth who had entered turned unhesitatingly but 
with a kind of impressive dignity toward where 
in the dimmer light of the store a recently in¬ 
stalled soda-fountain, modest of size but brave 
with white marble and nickel, gleamed a welcome. 

In response to the summons of the bell a girl 
came through the door that led to the rear of the 
little building. As she came she fastened a long 
apron over the dark blue dress and sent an in¬ 
quiring hand upward to the smooth brown hair. 
Evidently reassured, she said, “Hello,” in a 
friendly voice and, having established herself be¬ 
hind the counter, looked questioningly at the cus¬ 
tomer, 


3 


4 


NID AND NOD 


44 Hello,’’ responded the boy. 44 Give me a 
chocolate sundae with walnuts and a slice of pine- 
apple, please. And you might put a couple of 
cherries on top. Seen Nod this afternoon?” 

The girl shook her head as she deposited a por¬ 
tion of ice-cream in a dish and pressed the 
nickeled disk marked “Chocolate.” “I’ve just 
this minute got hack from school,” she replied. 
44 Are n’t you out early to-day?” 

44 No recitation last hour,” the youth ex¬ 
plained as his eyes followed her movements fas¬ 
cinatedly. 4 4 That all the chopped walnuts I get, 
Polly?” 

4 4 It certainly is when you ask for pineapple and 
cherries, too,” answered the girl firmly. She 
tucked a small spoon on the side of the alarming 
concoction, laid a paper napkin in front of the 
customer, and placed the dish beside it. 4 4 Would 
you like a glass of water?” 

The youth paused in raising the first spoonful 
to his mouth and looked to see if she spoke with 
sarcasm. Apparently, however, she did not, and 
so he said, 44 Yes, please,” or most of it; the last 
of it was decidedly unintelligible, proceeding as 
it did from behind a mouthful of ice-cream, choco- 


5 


AT THE LITTLE BLUE SHOP 

late syrup, and cherry. When the glass of water 
had been added to the array before him and he 
had swallowed three spoonfuls of the satisfying 
medley, the stout youth sighed deeply, and his 
gaze went roaming to an appealing display of 
pastry beyond the girl. 

“Guess I ’ll have a cream-cake,” he announced. 
“And one of those tarts, please. What’s in ’em, 
Polly 1 ’ ’ 

“Raspberry jam.” 

“Uh-huh. All right. Better make it two, 
then.” 

Polly Deane eyed him severely. “Kewpie 
Proudtree,” she exclaimed, “you know you 
oughtn’t to eat all this sweet stuff!” 

“Oh, what’s the difference?” demanded the 
youth morosely. “Gee, a fellow can’t starve all 
the time! Maybe I won’t go in for football next 
year, anyway. It’s a dog’s life. No desserts 
you can eat, no candy, no—” 

“Well, I think that’s a very funny way for 
you to talk,” interrupted Polly indignantly. 
“After the way you played in the Farview game 
and everything! Why, every one said you were 
just wonderful, Kewpie!” 


6 


NID AND NOD 


Kewpie’s gloom was momentarily dissipated, 
giving place to an expression of gratification. 
He hastily elevated a portion of ice-cream to his 
month and murmured deprecatingly, “Oh, well, 
but—” 

“And you know perfectly well,” continued the 
girl, “that pastry and sweets make you fat, and 
Mr. Mulford won’t like it a bit, and—” 

It was Kewpie’s turn to interrupt, and he did 
it vigorously. “What of it?” he demanded. “I 
don’t have to stay fat, do I? I’ve got all sum¬ 
mer to train down again, have n’t I? Gee, Polly, 
what’s the use of starving all the winter and 
spring just to play football for a couple of months 
next fall? Other fellows don’t do it.” 

“Why, Kewpie, you know very well that most 
of them do! You don’t see Ned and Laurie eat¬ 
ing pastry here every afternoon.” 

“Huh, that’s a lot different. Nod’s out for 
baseball, and Nid’s scared to do anything Nod 
doesn’t do. Why, gee, if one of those twins 
broke his leg the other’d go and bust his! I 
never saw anything so—so disgusting. Say, 
don’t I get those tarts?” 

“Well, you certainly won’t if you talk like that 


AT THE LITTLE BLUE SHOP 


7 


about your best friends, ’ ’ answered Polly crisply. 

“Oh, well, I didn’t say anything,” muttered 
Kewpie, grinning. “ Those fellows are different, 
and you know it. Gee, if I was on the baseball 
team I’d let pastry alone, too, I guess. It stands 
to reason. You understand. But it doesn’t 
make any difference to any one what I do. They 
wouldn’t let me play basket-ball, and when I 
wanted to try for goal-tend on the hockey-team 
Scoville said it would n’t be fair to the other teams 
to hide the net entirely. Smart Aleck! Besides, 
I’m only a hundred and sixty-one pounds right 
now. ’ ’ 

“That’s more than you were in the fall, I’m 
certain,” said Polly severely. 

“Sure,” agreed Kewpie. “Gee, when I came 
out of the Farview game I was down to a hundred 
and fifty-one and a half! I guess my normal 
weight’s about a hundred and sixty-five,” he 
added comfortably. “What about those tarts 
and the cream-cake?” 

“You may have the cream-cake and one tart, 
and that’s all. I ought n’t to let you have either. 
Laurie says—” 

“Huh, he says a lot of things,” grunted 


8 


NID AND NOD 


Kewpie, setting his teeth into the crisp flakiness 
of the tart. “And I notice that what he says is 
mighty important around here, too.” Kewpie 
smiled slyly, and Polly ’s cheeks warmed slightly. 
“Anything Nod says or does is all right, I sup¬ 
pose.” 

“What Laurie says is certainly a lot more 
important than what you say, Mr. Proudtree,” 
replied Polly warmly, “and—” 

“Now, say,” begged Kewpie, “I didn’t mean 
to be fresh, honest Polly! Gee, if you ’re going 
to call me 1 Mister Proudtree’ I won’t ever— 
ever—” 

He couldn’t seem to decide what it was he 
would n’t ever do, and so he thrust the last of the 
tart into his mouth and looked hurt and reproach¬ 
ful. When Kewpie looked that way no one, least 
of all the soft-hearted Polly, could remain of¬ 
fended. Polly’s haughtiness vanished, and she 
smiled. Finally she laughed merrily, and 
Kewpie’s face cleared instantly. 

“Kewpie,” said Polly, “you ’re perfectly 
silly.” 

“Oh, I’m just a nut,” agreed the-boy cheer¬ 
fully. “Well, I guess I ’ll go over to the field 




AT THE LITTLE BLUE SHOP 9 

and see what ’s doing. If you see Nod tell him 
I’m looking for him, will you?” 

Polly looked after him concernedly. Some¬ 
thing was wrong with Kewpie. He seemed 
gloomy and almost—almost reckless! Of late he 
had rioted in sweets and the stickiest of foun¬ 
tain mixtures, which was not like him. She won¬ 
dered if he had a secret sorrow, and decided to 
speak to Laurie and Ned about him. 

Polly Deane was rather pretty, with an oval 
face not guiltless of freckles, brown hair and 
brown eyes and a nice smile. She was not quite 
sixteen years old. Polly’s mother—known to the 
boys of Hillman’s School as the “Widow”—kept 
the little blue-painted shop, and Polly, when not 
attending the Orstead High School, helped her. 
The shop occupied the front room on the ground 
floor. Behind it was a combined kitchen, dining 
and living room, and up-stairs were two sleep¬ 
ing chambers. Mrs. Deane could have afforded 
a more luxurious home, but she liked her modest 
business and often declared that she didn’t know 
where she’d find a place more comfortable. 

Polly was aroused from her concern over the 
recent customer by the abrupt realization that 


10 


NID AND NOD 


he had forgotten to pay for his entertainment. 
She sighed. Kewpie already owed more than the 
school rules allowed. Just then the door opened 
to admit a slim, round-faced boy of about Polly’s 
age. He had red-brown hair under his blue 
school cap, an impertinent nose, and very blue 
eyes. He wore a suit of gray, with a dark-blue 
sweater beneath the coat. He wore, also, a cheer¬ 
ful and contagious smile. 

“Hello, Polly,” was his greeting. “Laurie 
been in yet?” 

“No, no one but Kewpie, Ned. He was look¬ 
ing for Laurie, too. He’s just gone.” 

“Well, I don’t know where the silly hombre’s 
got to,” said the new-comer. “He was in class 
five minutes ago, and then he disappeared. 
Thought he’d be over here. I’d like a chocolate 
ice-cream soda, please. Say, don’t you hate this 
kind of weather? No ice and the ground too wet 
to do anything on. Funny weather you folks have 
here in the East.” 

“Oh, it won’t be this way long,” answered 
Polly as she filled his order. “The ground will 
be dry in a day or two, if it does n’t rain—or snow 
again. ’ ’ 


AT THE LITTLE BLUE SHOP, 11 

i L Snow again! ’’ exclaimed the other. u Gee-all- 
whillikens, does it snow all sum m er here?” 

“Well, sometimes we have a snow in April, 
Ned, and this is only the twenty-first of March. 
But when spring does come it’s beautiful. I just 
love the spring, don’t you?” 

“Reckon so. I like our springs back home, but 
I don’t know what your Eastern springs are like 
yet.” He dipped into his soda and nodded ap¬ 
provingly. “Say, Polly, you certainly can mix 
’em. Congreve’s has got nothing on you. Talk¬ 
ing about spring, back in California—” 

He was interrupted by the opening of the door. 
The new arrival was a slim, round-faced youth of 
about Polly’s age. He had reddish-brown hair 
under the funny little blue cap he wore, a some¬ 
what impertinent nose, and very blue eyes. He 
wore a suit of gray knickers with coat to match 
and a dark blue sweater beneath the coat. Also, 
he wore a most cheerful smile. The first arrival 
turned and, with spoon suspended, viewed him 
sternly. 

“I bid you say where you have been,” he de¬ 
manded. 

The new-comer threw forth his right hand, palm 


12 


NID AND NOD 


upward, and poised himself on the toes of his 
wet shoes like a ballet-dancer. 

“In search of you, my noble twin/’ he an¬ 
swered promptly. 11 Hello, Polly! ’ ’ 

“Punk!” growled Ned Turner. “ 1 Been’ and 
‘ twin ’! My eye!’ * 

“Perfectly allowable rime, old son. What are 
you having?” 

“Chocolate ice-cream soda. Say, what became 
of you after school? I looked all over for you.” 

“Ran up to the room a minute. Thought 
you ’d wait, you dumb-bell.” 

“I did wait. Then I thought you’d started 
over here. Whose wheel is that you’ve got out 
there ?’ ’ 

“Search me. Elk Thurston’s, I guess. I 
found it doing nothing in front of West. I ’ll 
take a pineapple and strawberry, please, Polly.” 

“Well, you had a nerve! Elk will scalp you.” 

Laurie shrugged and accepted his refreshment. 
“I only borrowed it,” he explained carelessly. 
“Here comes the mob.” 

The afternoon influx of Hillman’s boys was be¬ 
gun by two tousled-haired juniors demanding 
“Vanilla sundaes with chopped walnuts, please, 


AT THE LITTLE BLUE SHOP 13 


Miss Polly! ’’ and after them the stream became 
steady for several minutes. Further sustained 
conversation with Polly being no longer possible, 
Ned and Laurie took their glasses to the other 
side of the shop, where Laurie perched himself 
on the counter and watched the confusion. Ned’s 
eyes presently strayed to the array of pastry be¬ 
hind the further counter, and he sighed wistfully. 
But as Laurie, who was in training for baseball, 
might not partake of such things, Ned resolutely 
removed his gaze from that part of the shop, not 
without a second sigh, and, turning it to the door, 
nudged Laurie in the ribs with an elbow. 

“Thurston,” he breathed. 

Laurie looked calmly at the big upper-middle 
boy who was entering. “Seems put out about 
something,” he murmured. 

“Say,” demanded “Elk” Thurston in a voice 
that dominated the noise of talk and laughter and 
the almost continuous hiss of the soda-fountain, 
“what smart guy swiped my bicycle and rode it 
over here?” 

Elkins Thurston was seventeen, big, dark- 
complexioned, and domineering, and as the chat¬ 
ter died into comparative silence the smaller boys 


14 


NID AND NOD 


questioned each other with uneasy glances. No 
one, however, confessed, and Elk, pushing his way 
roughly toward the fountain, complained bitterly. 
“Well, some fresh Aleck did, and I ’ll find out 
who he was, too, and when I do I ’ll teach him to 
let my things alone! ’ ’ 

“What’s the trouble, Elk?” asked Laurie 
politely. Ned, nudging him to keep still, found 
Elk observing him suspiciously. 

“You heard, I guess,” answered Elk. “Did 
you have it ? ” 

“Me?” said Ned. “No, I didn’t have it.” 

‘ 1 1 don’t mean you; I mean him. ’ ’ Elk pointed 
an accusing finger at Laurie. 

“Me?” asked Laurie. “What was it you 
lost?” 

i ‘ Shut up, ’ ’ whispered Ned. “ He ’ll come over 
and—” 

i 1 My bicycle, that’s what! I ’ll bet you swiped 
it, you fresh kid.” 

“What’s it look like?” inquired Laurie inter¬ 
estedly. 

“Never you mind.” Elk strode across, fixing 
Laurie with angry eyes. “Say, you took it, 
did n’t you ? ’ ’ 



AT THE LITTLE BLUE SHOP 15 

“Must have,” said Laurie cheerfully. “Did 
you want it ? 9 9 

‘‘ Did I—did I want—• Say, for two pins I ’d— ’’ 

“But, my dear old chap, how was I to know 
that you’d be wanting to ride it ? ’ ’ asked Laurie 
earnestly. “There it was, leaning against the 
steps, not earning its keep, and you hadn’t said 
a thing to me about wanting it, and so I just 
simply borrowed it. Honest, Elk, if you’d so 
much as hinted to me, never so delicately, that—” 

There were titters from the younger members 
of the much interested audience and even uncon¬ 
cealed laughter from the older boys, and Elk’s 
dark countenance took on a deeper and more 
angry red as he thrust it close to Laurie’s. 

“That ’ll be about all for you,” he growled. 
“You ’re one of these funny guys, aren’t you? 
Must have your little joke, eh? Well, see how 
you like this one!” 

Elk raised his right hand, unclenched but for¬ 
midable. An expectant hush filled the little store. 
Polly, with troubled eyes fixed on the drama, del¬ 
uged a pineapple ice-cream with soda until it 
dripped on the counter below, Laurie continued 
to smile. 


CHAPTER II 


KEWPIE STATES HIS CASE 

W HATEVER ’S going on?” asked a pleas¬ 
ant voice from the doorway that led into 
the room behind the shop. “Is—is anything 
wrong, Polly? Dear me, child, you ’re running 
that all over the counter!” 

More than two dozen pairs of eyes turned to 
where Mrs. Deane looked perplexedly about her. 
She was a sweet-faced little woman whose white 
hair was contradicted by a plump, unlined coun¬ 
tenance and rosy cheeks. Elk’s uplifted arm 
dropped slowly back. For a short moment the 
silence continued. Then a veritable Babel of 
voices arose. “Hello, Mrs. Deane!” “Say, 
Mrs. Deane, don’t you remember me paying you 
ten cents last Friday? Miss Polly says I still 
owe—” “Mrs. Deane, when are you going to 
have some more of those twirly things with the 

cream filling?” “Mrs. Deane, will you wait on 

16 


KEWPIE STATES HIS CASE 17 

me, please? I want—” “Aw, I was ahead of 
him—” 

The "Widow Deane beamed and made her way to 
the rear of the counter, greeting the boys by name. 
She was fond of all boys, but those of Hillman’s 
School she looked on as peculiarly her own, and 
she knew the names of nearly every one of them 
and, to a remarkable extent, their taste in the mat¬ 
ter of pastry and beverages. ‘ 4 1 could n’t imagine 
what had happened,” she was explaining to Cas 
Bennett as she filled his order for two apple turn¬ 
overs. “All of a sudden everything became s^ 
still in here! What was it ? ” 

Cas grinned. “Oh, just some of Nod Turner’s 
foolishness,” he replied evasively. “He and 
Thurston were—were talking.” 

They were still talking, for that matter, al¬ 
though their fickle audience no longer heeded. 
The interruption had quite spoiled Elk’s great 
scene, and after lowering his arm he had not 
raised it again. Even he realized that you 
couldn’t start anything when Mrs. Deane was 
present. But he was still angry and was explain¬ 
ing to Laurie none too elegantly that vengeance 
was merely postponed and not canceled. Ned, 


18 


NID AND NOD 


maintaining outward neutrality, watched Elk very 
closely. Ned had an idea, perhaps a mistaken 
one, that when it came to fistic encounters it was 
his bounden duty to substitute for Laurie, and 
he had been on the point of substituting when 
Mrs. Deane’s appearance had called a halt. 

Laurie’s smile gave place to sudden gravity as 
he interrupted Elk’s flow of eloquence. “That 
will do,” he said. “I’m not afraid of you, 
Thurston, but it’s silly to get so upset over a 
trifle. Of course I shouldn’t have taken your 
wheel, but I did n’t hurt it any, and you’ve 
bawled me out quite enough, don’t you think? 
I ’ll apologize, if you like, and—” 

“I don’t want your apology,” growled Elk. 
“You ’re too blamed fresh, Turner, and you talk 
too much. After this you let everything of mine 
alone. If you don’t, I ’ll do what I was going to 
do when the old lady came in. Understand?” 

“Perfectly,” replied Laurie soberly. “Have 
a soda?” 

“Not with you, you little shrimp I” Elk strode 
away, fuming, to elbow his way to the fountain. 

“What did you have to say that for?” asked 
Ned. “You had him pretty nearly calmed down, 



KEWPIE STATES HIS CASE 


19 


and then you had to spoil it all by offering him a 
drink. When he said you talk too much he was 
dead right!” 

‘‘ Oh, well, what’s he want to kick up such a fuss 
for?” asked Laurie cheerfully. “Come on. 
I Ve got to beat it to gym for practice.” 

They waved a farewell to Polly over the heads 
and shoulders of the throng about the fountain, 
but that young lady demanded speech with them 
and left her duties for a hasty word nearer the 
door. “I Ve just got to see you boys about 
Kewpie,” she announced. “It’s very important. 
Can’t you come back a minute before supper, 
Ned?” 

“Kewpie?” asked Laurie. “What’s wrong 
with him?” 

“I don’t know. That’s what I want to talk 
about. There is n’t time now. ’ ’ 

“All right, we ’ll be back about five thirty,” 
agreed Ned. “By. See you later.” 

“Wonder what’s up,” said Laurie when, hav¬ 
ing reached School Park, they turned their steps 
briskly over the slushy pavements toward Hill¬ 
man’s. “Looked perfectly normal last time I 
saw him.” 


20 


NID AND NOD 


“Kewpie? Sure, all except his size. That’s 
not normal. By the way, he was looking for you, 
Polly said. Matter of life or death.” 

“Huh, I know what he wants. He’s got it into 
that crazy head of his that he can pitch, and he 
wants me to give him a try-out. I sort of half 
promised I would/ ’ 

“Mean he wants to pitch for the nine?” asked 
Ned incredulously. 

“Well, he wants to get on the squad, anyway. 
Thinks that if I tell Mr. Mulford he’s sort of 
good, Pinky will take him on. ’’ 

“Would he?” 

Laurie shrugged. “I don’t believe. Mul¬ 
ford warned the fellows two weeks back that if 
they didn’t report for indoor work he didn’t 
want them later. And he generally keeps his 
word, Pinky does. ’ ’ 

‘ ; ‘Why didn’t Kewpie think of it ’before?” 
asked Ned. 

“Search me, old dear. What’s troubling me 
is that he’s thought of it now. He’s been pester¬ 
ing the life out of me for a week.” 

“What’s he want you to look him over for? 
Why doesn’t he ask Cas Bennett or some 


KEWPIE STATES HIS CASE 


21 


one who knows something about pitching ?” 

“Reckon he knows they wouldn’t bother with 
him. Thinks because Pinky’s got it into his old 
bean that he can make a catcher of me that I can 
spot a Mathewson or a Mays with my eyes shut. 
I appreciate his faith in me and all that, Ned, and 
it wounds me sorely that my own kith and kin— 
meaning you, old dear—haven’t the same—er— 
boundless trust in my ability, but, just between 
the two of us, I don’t know a curve from a drop 
yet, and if I can stop one with my mitt I’m as 
pleased as anything and don’t care a continental 
whether the silly thing stays in said mitt or 
doesn’t. Frankly, I’m plumb convinced that 
Pinky had a brain-storm when he dragged me in 
from the outfield and stuck me behind a wire bird¬ 
cage ! ’ ’ 

“Oh, I guess he knows his business,” responded 
Ned. “Anyhow, you’ve got to do your best. If 
you don’t I ’ll lick the daylight out of you.” 

“Don’t you mean into me?” asked Laurie 
sweetly. “Seems to me that ought to be the 
proper phrase. Having, as I understand physi¬ 
ology, no daylight in me, to start with—” 

“Oh, shut up! I mean what I say, though. We 


22 


NID AND NOD 


agreed when we got here last fall that I was to 
go in for football and you for baseball. I know 
I didn’t make very good—” 

“Shut up yourself! You did so!” 

“But that’s the more reason you should. The 
honor of the Turners is at stake, partner. Don’t 
you forget that!” 

“Oh, I ’ll do my best,” sighed Laurie, “but I 
certainly do hold it ag’in Pinky for butting in on 
my quiet, peaceful life out in the field and talk¬ 
ing me into this catching stuff. Gosh, I had no 
idea the human hand could propel a ball through 
space, as it were, the way those pitcher guys do! 
Some time I ’ll break a couple of fingers, I sup¬ 
pose, and then I ’ll get let out.” 

“Oh, no, you won’t,” said Ned grimly. “All 
the big league catchers have two or three broken 
fingers on each hand. Don’t count on that, old 
son!” 

They had crossed Walnut Street now and were 
stamping the melted snow from their shoes on the 
drier concrete sidewalk before the school prop¬ 
erty. Above the top of a privet hedge the upper 
stories of the school buildings were in sight, West 
Hall, School Hall, and East Hall facing Summit 


KEWPIE STATES HIS CASE 23 

Street in order. In the windows of West Hall, 
a dormitory, gaily hued cushions added color to 
the monotony of the brick edifice, and here and 
there an uptlirown casement allowed a white sash- 
curtain to wave lazily in the breeze of a mild 
March afternoon. As the two boys turned in at 
the first gate, under the modest sign announcing 
“Hillman's School—Entrance Only,” Laurie 
broke the short silence. 

“What are you doing this afternoon?” he 
asked. 

“I don't know. There is n't much a fellow can 
do except read.” 

“Or study,” supplemented Laurie virtuously. 
“Better come along and watch practice a 
while.” 

But Ned shook his head. “Not good enough, 
old-timer. That baseball cage is too stuffy. 
Guess I '11 wander over to the field and see if 
there's anything going on.'' 

“There won't be. They say the ice has gone to 
mush. Listen. If you see Kewpie, tell him I 
died suddenly, will you? And how about Polly? 
Shall I meet you there?” 

“Yes, five thirty we told her. So-long!” 


24 


NID AND NOD 


“By, old dear! Here’s where I go and lose 
a finger!” 

Ned climbed to the second floor of East Hall and 
made his way along the corridor to No. 16. The 
door was ajar, and when he had pushed it open 
he discovered Kewpie Proudtree stretched at 
length on the window-seat. It was no unusual 
thing to find Kewpie in possession of No. 16, for 
he appeared to like it fully as well as his own 
quarters across the way, if not better. Kewpie 
laid down the magazine he had been examining 
and laboriously pulled himself to a sitting pos¬ 
ture. 

“Hello, Hid,” he greeted. “Where’s Nod?” 
It was Kewpie who had tagged those quaint nick¬ 
names on the Turner twins, and he never failed 
to use them. 

“Gym,” answered Ned. “Practice.” 

“What! What time is it? And here I’ve been 
wasting my time waiting for him!” 

“Too bad about your time! Get your cap, and 
let ’s go over to the field.” 

But Kewpie shook his head sadly, relapsing 
against the cushions. “I’m not feeling very well, 
Nid,” he said plaintively. 


KEWPIE STATES HIS CASE 25 

Ned looked at him with more interest, wander¬ 
ing if it could be Kew r pie’s state of health that 
was concerning Polly Deane. But it w r as difficult 
to associate that youth’s bulk with illness, and 
Ned abandoned the idea. “What ’s wrong with 
you?” he inquired jeeringly. 

“It seems to be my stomach,” said Kewpie, lay¬ 
ing a sympathetic hand on that portion of his 
anatomy. 

“Does, eh? Well, what have you been eat¬ 
ing?” 

“Eating? Nothing much. Well, I did have a 
cream-puff and a tart at the Widow’s, but I guess 
it isn’t that.” 

“Oh, no, of course not, you silly prune! And 
you probably had a nut sundae with whipped 
cream and sliced peaches and a lot of other 
truck on it. Funny you don’t feel w r ell, isn’t 
it?” 

“I didn’t have any whipped cream,” said 
Kewpie indignantly. “It—it makes me bil¬ 
ious.” 

“Well, come on over to the field. It ’ll do you 
good.” 

“I’ve been there. There’s nothing doing, 


26 


NID AND NOD 


Nid. The rink looks like tapioca pudding, and 
you can go in to your ankles anywhere you walk. 
Look at my shoes. ” 

“Yes, and look at that window-seat, you crazy 
galoot! Why don’t you wipe your dirty feet on 
your own cushions?” 

“Oh, that ’ll come off.” Kewpie flicked at the 
muddy stains with a nonchalant hand. “Say, 
listen. I’ve been trying to get hold of Nod all 
day. How long’s he going to practise?” 

“Search me. They keep at it until five or a 
bit after, I think. What you got on your so- 
called mind, Kewpie ? ’ ’ 

Kewpie hesitated and finally decided to take 
Ned into his confidence. “Well, it’s like this,” 
he began impressively. “A fellow needs more 
exercise than he gets along this time of year, Nid. 
Of course, it’s all right for you fellows who play- 
basket-ball or hockey, but I couldn’t get into 
those things, and there isn’t much else to keep 
you fit. Now—” 

“Except pastry at the Widow Deane’s, 
Kewpie. ’ ’ 

Kewpie ignored the interruption. “Well, any- 


KEWPIE STATES HIS CASE 


27 


way, I Ve been thinking that if I could get into 
baseball it would be a mighty good thing for me. 
Sort of keep me in training, you know. I—I’m 
likely to put on weight if I don’t watch out. You 
understand. ’ ’ 

“What’s your line?” asked Ned innocently. 
“Short-stop?” 

Kewpie grinned. “Pitcher,” he said. 

“Really? Why, I didn’t know you were a 
baseball pitcher. Ever worked at it much?” 

“Sure,” said Kewpie. Then his gaze wavered 
and he hedged a trifle. “Of course, I’ve never 
tried for the team or anything like that, but last 
spring we had a scrub team here and I pitched on 
it—generally. I’ve got something, too, let me 
tell you.” Kewpie’s assurance returned. “x\ll 
I need is practice, Nid. Why, I can pitch a drop 
that’s a wonder! ’ ’ 

“Too bad you didn’t go out for the team this 
year,” said Ned. “I understand Mr. Mulford 
won’t take any fellows on who didn’t report 
early.” 

Kewpie’s dejection returned and he nodded. 
“I know,” he answered. “That’s why I wanted 


28 


NID AND NOD 


to get Nod to—to sort of speak a good word for 
me. You see, if I can show him I ’ve got some¬ 
thing on the ball and he tells Pinky, why, I guess 
Pinky wouldn’t want to lose me.” 

“Why don’t you speak to Pinky yourself?” 

“Oh, you know how coaches are. They don’t 
believe what you tell ’em half the time; think 
you ’re just stringing ’em to get on the squad. ’ ’ 

“And, of course, you wouldn’t do that,” said 
Ned gravely. 

“Oh, shut up,” answered Kewpie, grinning. 
“You don’t think I can pitch, I ’ll bet.” 

“You win,” replied Ned simply. 

“All right, then, I ’ll show you, by Joshua! 
You get Nod to catch me, and you ’ll see. Honest, 
you might help a fellow, Nid, instead of joshing 
him. Why, say, look how I got you on the foot¬ 
ball team last fall! If I had n’t told Joe Steven¬ 
son about you being a star half-back—” 

“Yes, and you came mighty close to getting 
your silly dome knocked clean off you,” inter¬ 
rupted Ned grimly. “A nice bunch of trouble 
you got me into! ’ ’ 

“Well, it came out all right, didn’t it?” asked 
Kewpie irrepressibly. “Didn’t you win the old 


KEWPIE STATES HIS CASE 29 

game for us with that kick of yours? Sure, you 
did! I ’ll say so!” 

“ Never you mind about that, old son. If you 
expect me to help you get on the baseball team 
you need n’t crack up what you did last fall!” 

Kewpie looked momentarily pained, but per¬ 
haps he was accustomed to the ingratitude of 
human nature. Anyway, he arose with careful 
deliberation from the window-seat, an inquiring 
palm laid against his stomach, and smiled for¬ 
givingly down on Ned. i i Well, I’ve got to be go¬ 
ing back,” he announced. ‘ 1 Tell Nod I ’ll be in 
about six, won’t you? And—er—say, you don’t 
happen to have a half-dollar you don’t need right 
away, I suppose.” 

“I might,” answered Ned, reaching into a 
pocket. “ Going to bribe your way into baseball, 
you fat rascal?” 

“No, but I went off without paying for the 
stuff at the "Widow’s, Nid; clean forgot all about 
it, and—” 

“Kewpie, don’t lie, or you won’t get this!” 

Kewpie grinned. “Well, I didn’t exactly for¬ 
get it, maybe, but it—it sort of passed out of my 
mind at the moment. You understand. I really 


30 NID AND NOD 

ought to go back there and pay it, Nid.” 

“That’s all right. I can save you the trouble. 
I ’m going down there myself pretty soon. How 
much is it!” 

11 Twenty cents, ’ * faltered Kewpie. 

“Fine! Then you won’t need the other thirty, 
old son.” 

There was deep reproach in Kewpie’s face as 
he went out. 


CHAPTER III 

THE “a. R. K. P.” IS FORMED 


F EW customers patronized the little blue shop 
on Pine Street between five and six. Hill¬ 
man ’s discouraged the consumption of sweets so 
close to the school supper-hour, and, while there 
was no rule against it, the fellows felt themselves 
more or less on honor to observe the doctor’s fre¬ 
quently expressed wish. Neighbors ran in at in¬ 
tervals for a loaf of bread or cake or ten cents’ 
worth of whipped cream, but for the most part, 
as six o’clock approached, the bell tinkled infre¬ 
quently. Consequently the conference held this 
afternoon in the Widow Deane’s sitting-room, 
which was also kitchen and dining-room and par¬ 
lor, was almost undisturbed. The conference 
was participated in by four persons, Polly, Ned, 
Laurie, and Mae Ferrand. Mae’s presence had 
been unforeseen, but as she was Polly’s particular 
chum and, as Laurie phrased it, 4 ‘one of the 
bunch,” it occasioned no embarrassment. Mae 

31 


32 


NID AND NOD 


was about Polly’s age and perhaps a bit prettier, 
although, to quote Laurie again, it all depended 
on whether you liked light hair or dark. Mae’s 
hair was pure sunshine, and her skin was milk- 
white and rose-pink; and, which aroused Polly’s 
envy, she never freckled. 

As the four had known each other since autumn 
there was no stiffness apparent in either speech 
or action. Ned lolled back in the comfortable old 
patent rocker, with his legs over one arm of it, 
and Laurie swung his feet from the table, secure 
in the knowledge that Polly’s mother was up¬ 
stairs. Laurie had a weakness for positions al¬ 
lowing him full liberty for his feet. Polly was 
talking. She and Mae, arms entwined, occupied 
the couch between the windows. A shining kettle 
on the stove hissed cozily, and a big black cat, 
Towser by name, purred in Ned’s lap as he 
scratched her head. 

4 ‘There’s something wrong with him,” stated 
Polly convincedly. “I’ve noticed it for quite a 
while, more than two weeks. He looks dread¬ 
fully gloomy and unhappy, and he—he’s absent- 
minded, too. Just this afternoon he went off 


THE “A. E. K. P.” IS FOEMED 33 


without thinking a thing about paying for a sun¬ 
dae and some cakes he had.” 

Ned grinned but said nothing. Laurie winked 
gravely. 

“And that ’s another thing,” continued Polly. 
“It’s perfectly awful the way he eats sweet 
things, Laurie. He comes in every day and, if 
I ’d let him, he’d make himself sick with cream- 
puffs and tarts and candy. It just seems as if 
he didn’t care what happened to him, as if he 
was—was desperate! Why, he told me to-day 
that maybe he would n’t play football any more!’’ 

“I guess he was just talking,” said Mae. 

“I don’t think so.” Polly shook her head. 
“He acts funny. Haven’t you noticed it, 
Laurie ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, but he always did act funny. He’s a 
nut.” 

“No, he isn’t; he’s a real nice boy, and you 
ought n’t to talk like that. He’s unhappy, and 
we ought to help him. ’ ’ 

“All right,” agreed Laurie cheerfully. 
“What ’ll we do?” 

“Well, I suppose that first of all we should find 



34 


NID AND NOD 


out what’s worrying him,” answered Polly 
thoughtfully. “You—you have to know the dis¬ 
ease before you apply the remedy.” Polly was 
plainly rather pleased with that statement, and 
so was Mae. Mae squeezed her friend’s arm in 
token of appreciation. 'Laurie allowed that it 
was a “wise crack” but wanted to know how 
Polly proposed to make the discovery. “Far as 
I can see,” he added, “Kewpie’s much the same 
as usual, if not more so. Although, to tell the 
honest gospel truth, I haven’t seen an awful lot 
of him just recently. I’ve been sort of keeping 
out of his way because he’s after me to see him 
pitch so’s I can ask Pinky to let him on the base¬ 
ball squad.” 

“It couldn’t be that, do you think?” asked 
Polly of the room at large. “I mean, you don’t 
suppose he’s hurt because you’ve been avoiding 
him? He might think that you’d gone back on 
him, Laurie, and I guess that Kewpie has a very 
sensitive nature.” 

Ned snorted. “ Kewpie’s nature’s about as 
sensitive as a—a whale’s! ” 

“I don’t know anything about whales,” de¬ 
clared Polly with dignity, “but I do know that 


THE “A. R. K. P.” IS FORMED 35 


very often folks who don’t seem sensitive are 
actually the very sensitivest of all. And I am 
quite sure that if Kewpie thought Laurie had— 
had deserted him—” 

“Hey, hold hard, Pollyl Gee, I haven’t de¬ 
serted the poor prune. I—I’ve been busy lately 
and—and—well, that’s all there is to it. Gosh, 
I like Kewpie. He’s all right, isn’t he, Ned?” 

“Yes. Look here, Miss Chairwoman and 
Ladies and Gentlemen of the Convention, the only 
thing that’s wrong with Kewpie is that he 
doesn’t know what to do with himself. Ever 
since he stopped playing football he’s been like 
a chap who’s lost his job and can’t find another 
one. Of course, at first it wasn’t so bad, for 
Christmas vacation was coming. But for the last 
couple of months he’s just sort of mooned around, 
getting sore-headed because he could n’t make the 
basket-ball team or the hockey team or anything 
else. Give the old chap something to do and he ’ll 
snap o it of it. He comes over here and fills up 
on past y and stuff because he hasn’t anything 

•i 

better t'H do and has a sweet tooth, anyway. 

i • 

Laurie a! 11 ' I have told him often enough that he 
ought to cut it out, but he says he doesn’t care 


36 


NID AND NOD 


whether he gets on the eleven next fall or not. 
That ’s just guff, of course. If they had spring 
football practice here he’d behave himself, but 
they don’t. Only trouble with Kewpie is he’s 
lost his ambition. ’ 9 

After that long speech Ned subsided further 
into the rocker. Mae looked across at him ad¬ 
miringly. “I’m sure Ned’s quite right, Polly,” 
she declared. 

“Well, I’m glad if he is,” said Polly with a sigh 
of relief. “I was dreadfully afraid that he had 
some—some secret sorrow in his life, like—like a 
cruel stepmother or—or a father who drank or 
something. If it’s only what Ned thinks it is, 
why, everything’s quite easy, because getting 1 on 
the baseball team will be just the thing for him.” 

“How’s he going to get there?” asked Laurie 
suspiciously. 

“Why, I thought you said he wanted you to 
help him!” 

“I did, but what he wants and what J aim to 
do—” h 

“Kewpie couldn’t play baseball, Po y,” said 
Ned. “Look at him!” 4p 

“But I Ve seen stout boys play baseball plenty 


THE “A. R. K. P.” IS FORMED 37 


of times,” Polly protested. “Two years ago we 
had a first baseman on the high school team who 
was every bit as fat as Kewpie Prondtree. You 
remember George Wallen, Mae.” 

“But it isn’t only his fatness, or stoutness, or 
whatever you like to call it,” insisted Laurie. 
“He isn’t built right for baseball. Gee, think 
of Kewpie trying to beat out a bunt or sliding to 
second! Besides, hang it, I couldn’t get him on 
the team if he really could pitch! Pinky said 
positively—” 

“Is he a pitcher?” asked Polly eagerly. 

“No, but he wants people to think he is.” 

“But that would make it lots easier, Laurie! 
A pitcher does n’t have to run much, and—” 

“Why does n’t he? Don’t you think he has to 
take his turn at the bat sometimes?” 

“But he never hits the ball,” replied Polly tri¬ 
umphantly, “and so he doesn’t need to run!” 

“She had you there, partner,” laughed Ned. 

“Well, just the same,” answered Laurie, grin¬ 
ning, “I ’ll be hanged if I’m going to ask Pinky to 
let Kewpie on the squad just so he won’t be lone¬ 
some. Pinky would n’t listen to me, anyway. ” 

“You don’t know,” said Polly. “And I think 


38 


NID AND NOD 


yon really ought to try. Yes, I do! Kewpie’s 
having a miserable time of it, and he’s ruining 
himself for football, and it’s our duty to the 
school to do everything we can so he won’t!” 

“Say that again,” begged Ned, but Polly paid 
no heed. 

“Besides,” she went on warmly, “we all pre¬ 
tend to be his friends, and I guess a friend ought 
to be willing to make some sacrifices for you, and 
it would n’t be very much for Laurie to get him 
on the baseball team and—” 

“But I tell you I can’t do it!” wailed Laurie. 

“You don’t know. You have n’t tried. Don’t 
you think he ought to try, Mae?” 

“I certainly do,” said that young lady de¬ 
cisively. 

“Don’t you, Ned?” persisted Polly earnestly. 

“Not a doubt of it in the world,” answered 
Ned gravely. 

Laurie glared indignantly at him, but Ned was 
looking at Towser. After a brief silence Laurie 
sighed gloomily. 

i ‘ All right, ’ ’ he said. ‘ ‘ But I can tell you right 
now that it won’t do any good. Mr. Mulford said 
he wouldn’t take on any fellow who didn’t re- 


THE “A. R. K. P.” IS FORMED 39 


port for early practice, and he means it. Resides, 
Kewpie’s no more of a pitcher than—than I am!” 

“I know, Laurie,” said Polly persuasively, 
“but maybe with practice, and if you showed 
him— ’ 9 

Ned chortled. Laurie, although he wanted to 
smile, kept a straight face. 

“Of course ,’ 9 he agreed, “I might do that. 
Well, I ’ll do it, though I ’ll feel like a perfect ass 
when I speak to Pinky about it.” 

“There,” said Polly in triumph. “I knew we 
could do something if we all put our heads to¬ 
gether! And I do hope it will be all right. 
Kewpie’s really a very dear boy, and he certainly 
did wonderfully at football last fall and he’s 
just got to keep on. I do think, though, that we 
should keep this quite to ourselves, don’t you, 
Ned?” 

“Don’t just see how we can. If Kewpie gets 
on the baseball squad he’s almost sure to know 
something about it. He’s not such a fool as he 
looks sometimes, Polly.” 

Polly stared. “I don’t see—” she began. 
Then the twinkle in Ned’s eye explained. “Of 
course I didn’t mean that, silly! I meant that 



40 


NID AND NOD 


Kewpie should n’t know that we—that we’d been 
discussing him and that we had—well, conspired, 
Ned. Don’t you see? He might resent it or 
something.” 

“I get you! We ’ll make a secret society out 
of it, eh? Association for the Restoration—no, 
that won’t do.” 

“Advancement,” suggested Mae. 

“Association for the Reclamation of Kewpie 
Proudtree!” pronounced Ned. “And the pass¬ 
word—” 

“Association for the Degradation of Laurence 
Turner, you mean,” said Laurie dejectedly. 
“And there is n’t any password, because he won’t 
pass!” 

“All right,” agreed Ned. “But the dues are 
twenty cents. Here you are, Polly. You’ve got 
‘treasurer’ written all over you.” 

“But—but what is it?” asked Polly, refusing 
to accept the two dimes that Ned proffered. 

“Madam, I am settling the debt of none other 
than our distinguished and rattle-brained friend 
Kewpie. At his request. It seems he—er—he 
neglected to settle for the entertainment you pro- 



THE “A. R. K. P.” IS FORMED 41 


videcl him this afternoon, and, torn by remorse—” 

“Oh, I knew he forgot!” exclaimed Polly 
gladly. 

4 4 He would, * ’ said Laurie pessimistically. 4 4 He 
has a perfectly remarkable forgetory. I guess 
he’s the champion long-distance forgetter—” 

44 DonT be horrid,” begged Polly. 44 With so 
much on his mind, it’s no wonder he—” 

44 On his what?” exclaimed Laurie. 44 Ned, did 
you get that? Kewpie has so much on his mind! 
Honest, Polly, when Kewpie takes his cap off he 
has iPt—” 

The kettle caused a diversion by boiling over 
just then, and the conference broke up. 

Kewpie awaited Laurie in No. 16, and as the 
twins entered he broke into speech. 4 4 Say, Nod, 
when— ’ * 

4 4 To-morrow morning. Half-past ten. Back 
of the gym,” replied Laurie promptly. Kewpie 
stared, puzzled. 

44 What?” he demanded suspiciously. 

Laurie performed an exaggerated parody of a 
pitcher winding up and delivering a ball. Then, 
assuming the role of catcher, he leaped high off 


42 


NID AND NOD 


liis feet and pulled down a wild one that would 
undoubtedly have smashed the upper pane of the 
further window had it got by him. 

“Honest?” cried Kewpie. “Me and you?” 

“No, you and me.” 

“But—how did you know what I was going to 
ask?” 

Laurie viewed him sadly. “Kewpie,” he re¬ 
plied, “it ’sa mighty good thing you decided to be 
a pitcher. That’s the only position that does n’t 
call for any brain!” 


CHAPTER IV 


PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT 

L AURIE folded Kewpie’s sweater and placed 
it on the ground a few yards from the 
gymnasium wall. “There ’s your plate,’’ he an¬ 
nounced. “See if you can put ’em over the 
middle button, Kewpie.” 

Kewpie tightened his belt, thumped a worn 
baseball into a blackened glove, and rather osten¬ 
tatiously dug a hole in the moist turf with his 
heel. Laurie grinned. Here on the south side 
of the building the sun shone warmly and the 
ground was fairly dry. Behind Laurie about 
four yards away, was a wire fence which, if 
Kewpie retained ordinary control of the ball, 
would make life easier for Ned, who sat in the 
embrasure of a basement window. Laurie pulled 
his mitten on and waited. Kewpie was at last 
satisfied with the hole he had dug and fitted his 
toe into it. Then he looked speculatively at the 
folded sweater and wrapped his fingers about the 
ball. 


43 


44 


NID AND NOD 


“What’s this going to be, Kewpie?” asked 
Ned. “A drop?” 

“Straight ball. Just warming up.” Kewpie 
let go, and the ball struck the fence and bounded 
back. Laurie sighed and went after it. 

“I ’m not as young as I was, Kewpie,” he said, 
“and anything more than ten feet on either side 
of me is likely to get away. See if you can put 
’em somewhere near the plate.” 

Kewpie laughed. “That one got away from 
me, Nod.” 

“Me, too,” said Laurie. “Let her come. 
Shoot her in! ” 

Kewpie’s next offering was a good deal better, 
and Laurie didn’t have to move to get it. 
Kewpie sent four or five more balls within rea¬ 
sonable distance of the sweater. There was no 
speed in them, nor were they other than perfectly 
straight offerings. Still, as Laurie reflected en¬ 
couragingly, it was something to be able to do that 
much. He was not quite sure he could do it him¬ 
self the first few times. 

“All right, old son,” he called. “Speed ’em 
up now.” 

But speed did not seem to be included in 


PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT 45 


Kewpie’s budget of tricks. The first attempt 
sent the ball over Laurie’s head and likewise over 
the fence. While Ned, sighing, went after it, 
Laurie indulged in gentle sarcasms. Kewpie 
thumped his glove with a bare fist and 
smiled genially. Then the ball came back, and 
Kewpie began again. Laurie picked the ball from 
the trampled turf between his feet and viewed 
Kewpie questioningly. 

“Didn’t you have some drop on that?” he 
queried. 

“Sure,” answered Kewpie. “Here’s another. 
You watch it.” 

Laurie did watch it. And it did drop. A 
faint, new-born respect for Kewpie as a pitcher 
was reflected in his voice as he said: “That’s 
not so poor, old thing. Where’d you learn 
it?” 

But Kewpie was throwing his chest out now, 
a purely unnecessary thing for Kewpie to do, and 
strutting a bit. 1 ‘ Never you mind, ’ ’ he answered. 
“I told you I had something, and you wouldn’t 
believe me.” 

“That’s all right,” remarked Ned, “but 
you’ve got to know more than just how to pitch 


46 NID AND NOD 

a drop if you ’re going to put Nate Beedle out of 
business.” 

11 That’s not half so worse, ’ ’ commented Laurie 
after the next ball had performed a very credit¬ 
able drop, “but let’s see something else, old son. 
How about a curve just for variety?” 

“We-ell,” said Kewpie, “I haven’t got curves 
down so well, but—” He spent a long moment 
fingering the ball and finally sent it off: with a 
decidedly round-arm delivery. Laurie caught it 
by leaping far to the left. 

“What was that supposed to be?” he asked 
politely. 

“In-shoot,” said Kewpie, but his tone lacked 
conviction. 

“Huh,” returned Laurie, “you ain’t so well in 
your in-shoot. Better see a doctor about it. Try 
an out, old son.” 

But Kewpie’s out wasn’t any better, and, at 
the end of about twenty minutes, by which time 
Ned was the only member of the trio not bathed 
in perspiration, it had been shown conclusively 
that Kewpie’s one and only claim to pitching 
fame rested on a not very remarkable drop-ball. 
Laurie picked up Kewpie’s sweater and returned 


PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT 47 


it to him gravely. “Better put that on,” he said 
with vast concern. “It would be awful if you 
got cold in that arm of yours.” 

Kewpie struggled with the garment, breathing 
heavily, and when he had conquered it he turned 
expectantly to Laurie. “Well, what do you 
say?” he asked. 

“What do you want me to say?” Laurie 
stared frowningly at his mitten. 

“Why, you know what I asked you,” said 
Kewpie. L ‘ I—you—’ ’ 

“But, great jumpin' Jupiter, Kewpie, I can’t 
ask Pinky to put you on the squad just because 
you can pitch a sort of a drop! You haven’t an 
ounce of speed; you can’t curve ’em—” 

“Well, but I haven’t had any work!” pro¬ 
tested the other. “Gee, I guess Nate Beedle 
couldn’t do much better the first time he 
pitched! ’ ’ 

“But Nate knows how, you simple fish! All 
the work in the world won’t make you any better 
if—” 

“Practice makes perfect, don’t it?” interrupted 
Kewpie indignantly. 

“Maybe. Maybe not. If you don’t know any- 


48 NID AND NOD 

thing about pitching you can practise from now 
until—” 

“But I do know, I tell you. All I need is 
practice. I ’ve got a book that tells—” 

“Book be blowed!” exploded Laurie. “You 
can’t learn pitching by taking a correspondence- 
course, you fat-head!” 

“Quit your arguing, you two,” said Ned. 
“Laurie’s quite right, Kewpie. He can’t recom¬ 
mend you to Mr. Mulford until you’ve got more 
to show than you’ve shown just now. But I don’t 
see what’s to prevent you from learning more 
tricks or what’s to prevent Laurie from helping 
you if he can. Seems to me the thing to do is 
for you two to get together every day for a 
while.” Ned was looking meaningly at his 
brother. “Maybe Kewpie’s got it in him, 
Laurie. ‘You can’t tell yet, eh!” 

“Eh! Oh, no, I suppose not. No, you can’t 
tell. Maybe with practice—” 

“Right-o,” agreed Ned. “That’s it; practice, 
Kewpie. Now you and Laurie fix it up between 
you to get together for half an hour every 
morning, savvy! Maybe after a week or 
so—” 


PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT 49 


“All right,” agreed Kewpie, beaming. “Gee, 
in a week I ’ll be speeding them over like—like 
anything! ’ ’ 

Laurie looked at him pityingly. “You—you 
poor prune!” he sighed. Ned surreptitiously 
kicked him on a shin and quickly drowned 
Kewpie’s hurt protest with, “There! That’s 
fine! Come on, Laurie, it’s nearly eleven.” 

“All right,” answered Laurie, rubbing the shin. 
“See you later, Kewpie, and we ’ll fix up a time 
for practice.” Out of ear-shot of the more lei¬ 
surely Kewpie, Laurie turned bitterly on his 
brother. “It’s all right for you,’’ he complained, 
“but that poor fish does n’t know any more about 
pitching than I know about—about my Latin this 
morning! It’s all right for you, but—” 

“You said that before,” interrupted Ned un¬ 
feelingly. “Look here, old-timer, did we or 
didn’t we agree to help Kewpie? Are you or 
aren’t you a member of the Association for the 
Reclamation—” 

“Sure, I’m a member! And I’m the goat, 
too, it seems like! I have to do all the dirty work 
while you stand around and bark up my shins! 
How do you get that way? You can catch a ball 


50 


NID AND NOD 


if you try. Suppose you take Kewpie on some 
of the time and see how you like it! ’’ 

“I would in an instant,” responded Ned, “if 
you’d let me, but you wouldn’t.” 

“I wouldn’t!” echoed Laurie incredulously as 
he followed the other up-stairs to No. 16. “Say, 
you ain’t so well! You just try me!” 

But Ned shook his head, smiling gently. 
“Just now, old son, you ’re not quite yourself. 
When your better nature asserts itself you ’ll—” 
“Oh, dry up,” growled Laurie. “Throw me 
my Latin. There goes the bell! ’ ’ 

Kewpie took his ball back to No. 15, pulled a 
small paper-bound book entitled “How to Pitch” 
from a table drawer, and curled himself on the 
window-seat. Presently, as he turned the pages 
slowly, his usually placid countenance became 
troubled. Reaching for the ball, he wound his 
fingers about it, his eyes ever and anon traveling 
to the book. Finally he arose, gathered the pil¬ 
lows from the two beds, and set them upright 
against the closet door, side by side. Then he 
moved an arm-chair out of the way and, having 
fitted his fingers around the scuffed baseball as 
indicated in Diagram 6, let fly. Naturally, the 


PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT 51 

distance was much too short to show whether or 
not he had held the ball correctly, but Kewpie was 
an optimist by nature. Several times he followed 
the instructions accompanying Diagram 6, not al¬ 
ways landing the ball against the pillows, how¬ 
ever, and then gave his attention to Diagram 7. 
He was very busy striving to diagnose its re¬ 
quirements when “Hop” entered. 

Hop’s real name was Thurman Kendrick, and 
he had the honor of being Kewpie’s room-mate. 
They were both football players and of an age, 
but there the likeness ceased. Hop was rather 
small and slim, with dark hair and an earnest 
countenance, a description that did n’t tit Kewpie 
at all. Hop was Hillman’s most likely candidate 
for next year’s quarter-back. Fortunately, the 
two boys worked together quite as smoothly on 
the gridiron as center and quarter as they did on 
the campus as room-mates. Or you may put it 
the other way around if you like, the idea being 
that they were the very best of chums off the 
field and on. But even a chum may have to as¬ 
sert authority once in a while, and Hop asserted 
it now. 

“What do you think you ’re doing, Kew- 


52 


NID AND NOD 


pie?” lie demanded in puzzlement. ‘‘Practising? 
Well, you pick those pillows up and put that ball 
down or I ’ll paddle you! Look here, did you get 
a cut in English ? ’ ’ 

Ivewpie looked blank. “Gee, no! What time 
of day is it? Well, what do you know about that? 
I just naturally—” 

“You ’ll just naturally get the dickens from 
Johnny, you silly chump,” responded Hop dryly 
as he dumped his books on the table. 1 4 What did 
you do? forget the time?” 

“N-no, I—I guess I got sort of interested in 
this pitching business, Hop. Say, you ought to 
have seen me pitching drops to Nod a while 
back! Boy, I ’ll say I made ’em eat out of my 
hand! ’ ’ 

i 1 And you ’ll be eating off the mantel if I catch 
you missing any more recitations! Honest, 
Kewpie, you haven’t got the sense of a duck. 
Besides, what the dickens do you want to get 
into baseball for? Is n’t football good enough?” 

“Sure, but I can’t play football now, can I? 
How do you suppose I’m going to keep myself in 
condition for it if I don’t have some exercise?” 

“I don’t have much trouble.” 


PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT 53 


“Of course you don’t, but you ’re not cursed 
with fat, Hop. It’s a terrible thing to be cursed 
with fat,” he said sadly. 

“It’s a terrible thing to be cursed with a fat 
head,” replied Hop severely. “You’ve got about 
as much chance of getting on the baseball team 
as I have of—of—But Hop couldn’t think of 
a satisfactory simile and so changed the subject. 
“Say, what’s Nod Turner been doing to Elk 
Thurston?” 

“I don’t know. I heard something about Elk’s 
bicycle, but—” 

“Well, Elk’s as sore as a pup about something, 
and— For goodness ’ sake, put that ball away be¬ 
fore you break something! How the dickens did 
I ever get hitched up with an idiot like you, any¬ 
way, I’d like to know! ’ ’ 

“Providence was watching over you, old chap,” 
answered Kewpie cheerfully. “As unworthy as 
you are—” 

“Dry up,” laughed Hop, “and see if you can 
keep still long enough for me to find out why 
Johnny gave me only eiglity-four on this theme.” 

“Johnny has an awful crust,” said Kewpie 
sympathetically. “Wonder what he marked 


54 NID AND NOD 

mine. Didn’t think to ask for it, did you?” 

“I did not. Shut up!” 

Laurie dropped around to the Widow Deane’s 
about five thirty that afternoon. It was getting 
to be something of a habit with him. Over a 
glass of root-beer he narrated to Polly the events 
of the morning. “He’s a perfect duffer at 
pitching,” he summed up finally, “and I guess I 
won’t ever have to trouble Pinky about him.” 

“But perhaps he will learn,” said Polly hope¬ 
fully. “And, anyway, he’s—he’s a changed 
mortal already, Laurie!” 

“He’s a what?” 

“I mean he’s different already. He was in 
this afternoon, and he had just a plain soda and 
only one cream-puff, and he was just as jolly as 
anything. Why, you would n’t know him for the 
same boy!” 

Somehow these glad tidings didn’t appear to 
endow Laurie with any great feeling of uplift. 
He said, “Huh,” and took another sip of his root- 
beer. Polly went on earnestly. 

“I suppose it’s just having something to in¬ 
terest him, something to live for, that’s changed 
him. Why, even if nothing actually came of it, 


PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT 55 

Laurie, we Ve already done him a lot of good. ” 

“Great,” said Laurie. “I guess he ’s got all 
the good that’s coming to him, then. He will 
never make a baseball pitcher.” 

“But you mustn’t tell him that, even if you 
believe it,” said Polly earnestly. “You must en¬ 
courage him, you know. We all must.” 

Laurie grinned. “I’ve already told him he’s 
no good. I guess I told him so several times. 
But he doesn’t believe it, so there’s no harm 
done.” 

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” exclaimed Polly. 
“Don’t you see, if he’s to be—be taken out of 
himself, Laurie, he must—must have faith?” 

“Oh, he’s got it, all right. I’m the one who 
hasn’t. He thinks he’s the coming scholastic 
wonder of the diamond, I guess. Of course, 
I’m perfectly willing to help the chap and keep 
him from killing himself off with cream-puffs, and 
that sort of thing, Polly, but you’ve got to own 
up that it’s a bit tough on me. Think of putting 
in half an hour every day with Kewpie! Gee, 
I’ve got troubles of my own, too. That silly 
Elk Thurston’s got it in for me, after that trifling 
affair of yesterday, and there’s no working in the 



56 


NID AND NOD 


same cage with him. It would n’t be so bad if 
we were n’t both trying for the same job.” 

“Do you mean that Elkins Thurston is a 
catcher, too!” 

“He is if I am,” answered Laurie smiling. 
“More, I guess, for he did some catching last 
spring with the second. Still, at that, he isn’t 
so much better. We ’re both pretty bad yet, 
Polly. ’ ’ 

“What does he do that—that you don’t like, 
Laurie ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, just acts ugly and nags whenever he gets 
a chance. If he keeps it up I ’ll crown him with 
a bat some tine day! ’ ’ 

“You mustn’t get into any fuss with him,” 
said Polly decidedly. “He’s a lot bigger than 
you and— 

“Huh, that’s why I mean to use a bat!” 

“Besides, you should n’t have taken his bicycle. 
You see, Laurie, you really started the trouble 
yourself.” 

“Yes, I suppose I did, but he shouldn’t be so 
touchy. Anyway, I don’t intend—” 

He was interrupted by the opening of the door 
and the tinkling of the bell. A frail-looking little 


































PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT 57 


woman in a queer old-fashioned dress and a 
funny little flat bonnet entered and Polly went 
to attend to lier. The two talked together across 
the opposite coujiter in low tones, and, just to 
show that he was not trying to overhear them, 
Laurie whistled softly. After a minute or two 
the little woman went out and Polly rejoined 
Laurie. 

“I feel so sorry for her,” said Polly with a 
sigh. 

4 ‘What’s the matter?” asked Laurie. *‘Who 
is she?” 

“That’s Miss Comfort.” Polly seemed sur¬ 
prised that Laurie did n’t know it. 1 ‘ She lives 
on the next corner, in the little white house that 
faces the park. She makes most of our cakes 
and pies. Don’t you remember—” 

“Of course,” agreed Laurie, “but that’s the 
first time I ever saw her, I guess. But why are 
you sorry for her?” 

“Because she’s got to get out of that house, 
and she hasn’t any place to go. And she must 
be almost seventy years old, Laurie. Just think 
of it!” 

“Well, but aren’t there any other houses in 


58 


NID AND NOD 


Orstead? Seems to me I saw one just the other 
day over on Washington Street that had a ‘To 
Rent’ sign in front.’’ 

“Yes, but that’s the old Cummings house, and 
it has sixteen rooms and rents for goodness knows 
what! You see, Miss Comfort had the use of 
the house she was in as long as her sister lived. 
Her sister was married and lived out West some¬ 
where ; Ohio or Iowa, I think. Well, she died last 
December, and now some lawyer has written her 
that she must vacate on the first of next month. ’ ’ 
“Didn’t give her much time, and that’s a 
fact,” commented Laurie sympathetically. 

“Oh, she’s known for quite a while, but the 
trouble is she hasn’t a cent of money.” 

‘ ‘ Phew! ’ ’ whistled Laurie. ‘ 1 How come ? ’ ’ 

“I guess she never did have any. That house 
belonged to her mother, and she died a long time 
ago and left a funny will that let Miss Comfort 
stay there until her sister died. She’s been get¬ 
ting along pretty well by making cakes and things 
and selling them. She makes the best cake in 
town, and every one buys of her. But I guess 
she’s never made more than enough money to 
just live on. I know that winter before last, 


PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT 59 

when coal was so high, she shut up all the rooms 
except the kitchen and lived there with just the 
stove for warmth. And goodness knows when 
she ’s had a new dress. I declare she ’s worn 
that one she had on just now ever since I ’ve been 
in Orstead, Laurie!” 

“Gee, that’s tough luck for the old girl,” said 
Laurie. “Must be some place for her, though.” 

‘ ‘ There’s only one place I know of, ’ ’ said Polly 
sadly, “and that ’s the poor-farm. Of course, 
she ’ll be well taken care of, and they ’ll let her 
go on making cake and selling it, but she hates it 
dreadfully. ’ ’ 

“I should think she might! At her age! 
Gee!” 

“Mama and I thought of having her here, but 
there’s only the two rooms up-stairs, and while 
it would be all right for a while it wouldn’t do 
as a—a permanent arrangement.” 

“But isn’t there any one else who could give 
her a home? Some one who has more room? 
What about the folks in her church?” 

“Well, of course there’s been talk of helping 
her, and I’m certain quite a lot of folks will give 
money, but I don’t believe she’d take it, Laurie. 


60 


NID AND NOD 


And even if she got qnite a lot, even a hundred 
dollars, it wouldn’t pay house-rent very long, 
would it?” 

“A hundred dollars!” snorted Laurie. “Say, 
they must be a lot of pikers. Why— ’’ 

‘‘Why, no, Laurie, they ’re not. You see, 
they ’re not very well off themselves, and the 
congregation is n’t a large one at all. A hundred 
dollars would be quite a lot of money to them. ’ ’ 
“So the poor old lady’s got to go to the poor- 
farm, eh?” mused Laurie, frowning. 

“I’m afraid so,” sighed Polly. “She’s never 
talked to me about it, but mama said this morning 
that she guessed Miss Comfort had about recon¬ 
ciled herself. And just now she came in to 
apologize for not sending two cakes she had prom¬ 
ised for this afternoon. I guess the poor dear’s 
too worried and upset to make them.” 

“Yes, I guess so,” Laurie agreed. “I call that 
tough luck. ‘Miss Comfort.’ Gee, I ’ll bet she 
has n’t really known what comfort is, Polly!” 

“Not since her mother died, probably. But 
she’s always been just as cheerful and happy as 
any one could be until just lately. She’s a per¬ 
fect dear, Laurie, and I could cry when I think 


PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT 61 


of her having to go to that po-poor-farm! ” 

Dismayed by the catch in Polly’s voice, and 
horribly afraid that she was really going to cry, 
Laurie suddenly recalled the fact that he must 
get back to school. “Well, I—I suppose there 
isn’t anything any one can do,” he murmured 
awkwardly. “Maybe the poor-farm won’t be so 
bad. I suppose it’s the idea of it that sort of 
gets her, eh? Well, I must be trundling along, 
Polly. ’ ’ 

Laurie gave a farewell suck at his straw, which 
resulted in only a gurgling sound at the bottom 
of his glass, and dropped off the counter. 

“Well, see you to-morrow,” he announced 
cheerfully. “Good night, Polly.” 

“Good night,” said Polly. “But you didn’t 
need to run away. I hadn’t any intention of 
cr-crying! ’ ’ 


CHAPTER V 


LAURIE TO THE RESCUE 

L AURIE’S rush to get back to school did not 
prevent him from pausing when, having 
turned the corner into Summit Street and pro¬ 
ceeded half-way along the block, he caught sight 
of Boh Starling in the back garden of the Coven¬ 
try place. The Coventry place, which consisted 
of a big square house set at the Walnut Street end 
of a broad and deep plot of land facing the school 
property, had been rented by Bob’s father, who 
was the engineer in charge of the big new rail¬ 
road bridge in course of construction near Or- 

£ 

stead. Bob was entered at Hillman’s School as a 
day-student. He was sixteen years old, a slim 
but well built chap with a very attractive coun¬ 
tenance. Bob’s mission in life, as he believed, 
was to play a great deal of tennis and play it bet¬ 
ter than any one else. In that mission he very 

nearly succeeded. It was tennis that was ac- 

62 


LAURIE TO THE RESCUE 63 

countable for his presence just now in the back 
yard, as Laurie well knew. 

“How soon are you going to start work?” 
called Laurie. 

“Hello, Nod! Come on in!” 

“Can’t. Nearly six. What are you doing?” 

“Just looking around,” replied Bob, drawing 
near. “I’ve got the stakes all set. Gosh, if the 
ground would dry up so they could begin to dig 
I’d have the old court ready in a week.” 

“I guess so.” Laurie nodded. “Well, a few 
more days like this will do the trick. Say, re¬ 
member how we planned to make a pergola out of 
that old lumber that came out of the arbor you 
pulled down?” 

“Yes, and we ’ll do it as soon as the court’s 
made. Dad’s got me twenty loads of the finest 
cinders you ever saw. ’ ’ 

“Good work! Reckon you ’ll be giving tennis 
teas in another month, Bob.” 

“Before that if the weather behaves. Been 
over to the Widow’s?” Bob grinned faintly. 

“ Yes. ” Laurie’s reply sounded a trifle defiant. 

“How’s Polly? Haven’t seen her for days.” 

“Oh, she’s holding up bravely under your ne- 


64 


NID AND NOD 


gleet,” answered Laurie. Then, having avoided 
Bob’s playful punch, he added, “she’s sort of 
broke up, though, over Miss Comfort.” 

“Who! Oh, the old dame that makes cake. 
Yes, my aunt was saying something about her at 
dinner yesterday. They ’re putting her out of 
her house or something, aren’t they!” 

Laurie nodded. “It’s a blamed shame, too,” 
he said indignantly. “Why, say, Bob, she’s over 
seventy! And one of the nicest old ladies in 
town, too. Always cheerful and happy and—and 
sunny, you know. One of the—er—well, a fine 
character, Bob.” 

“Gosh, I didn’t know you were so well ac¬ 
quainted with her, Nod!” 

“Well, I don’t know her so very well person¬ 
ally,” replied Laurie, “but Polly says—” 

“Oh!” chuckled Bob. 

Laurie scowled. “I don’t see anything very 
funny in it,” he protested. “A perfectly cork¬ 
ing old lady like Miss Comfort having to go to the 
poor-farm! At her age! Almost eighty! ’ ’ 

“Hold on! She was seventy a minute ago! 
Who says she’s going to the poor-farm!” 

“Pol—everybody! I call it a rotten shame!” 



LAURIE TO THE RESCUE 65 

“Why, yes, so do I,” agreed Bob, “but I don’t 
see why you are so het up about it.” 

“You don’t, eh? Well, if she was your 
mother—” 

“She couldn’t be, Nod; she isn’t married. 
And I don’t believe she’s yours, either, no matter 
what you say. ’ ’ 

“I didn’t say she was,” replied Laurie a trifle 
irritably. “I only said—I was just trying to 
make you see— Gee, you haven’t any heart at 
all!” 

“Oh, don’t be an ass,” laughed Bob. “I 
have n’t said anything against the poor old soul. 
I’m mighty sorry for her, just as sorry as you 
are, but I can’t do anything about it, can I?” 

“No, but you needn’t laugh at her!” 

“I was n’t laughing at her, you nut! I—” 

“Besides,” continued Laurie, “if every one 
took your attitude about—about things, saying, 
‘I can’t help it, can I?’ I’d like to know what sort 
of a world this would be.” 

“Well, hang it, I can’t!” said Bob emphati¬ 
cally, getting a trifle riled at his friend’s unrea¬ 
sonableness. “Neither can you. So why stand 
there and—” 



66 


NID AND NOD 


‘ 1 How do you know I can’t ?’’ demanded Laurie 
with much hauteur. “I have n’t said I could n’t. 
In fact, I—I’m going to! ” 

“You are?” exclaimed Bob incredulously. 
“How, Nod?” 

The note of respect in Bob’s voice dispelled 
Laurie’s annoyance perceptibly. “I don’t know 
—yet,” he answered. But there was something 
in his voice, or maybe in the emphasis put on the 
final word, or possibly in his manner, that caused 
Bob to think that he did know. “Oh, come on and 
tell me, Nod,” he asked. “Let me in on it. 
Maybe I can help, eh? Gosh, I ’ll say it’s fierce 
to use a fine old lady like that! Are you going 
to get up a subscription or a—I know! A benefit, 
eh?” • 

Laurie shook his head, glancing at his watch 
as he did so. “I can’t tell you anything about it 
—yet,” he replied. “But maybe—as soon as I 
get the details settled—I’ve got to do a lot of 
thinking, you know, Bob.” 

“Sure! Well, listen, let me in on it, will you? 
I’d love to do something, you know. I always 
thought Miss Comfort was a mighty fine old girl 
—I mean lady, Nod!” 


67 


LAURIE TO THE RESCUE 

“She is,” said Laurie almost reverentially. 

“Sure,” agreed Bob solemnly. 

“Well, I ’ll see you to-morrow. Keep it to 
yourself, though. I don’t want my plans all 
spoiled by—by a lot of silly talk.” 

“I ’ll say you don’t! Good night, Nod.” 

When he had reached the corner it began to 
dawn on Laurie that, as Elk had told him yester¬ 
day, he talked too much! “Got myself into a 
nice mess,” he thought ruefully. “Suppose I’ve 
got to go ahead and bluff it out with Bob now. 
Wonder what got into me. No—no discretion, 
that’s my trouble. I ain’t so well in my cir¬ 
cumspection, I guess. Better see a doctor about 
it! Oh, well—” 

The next morning Laurie and Kewpie took ad¬ 
vantage of an empty period soon after break¬ 
fast and again sought the south side of the gym¬ 
nasium building. To-day Kewpie sought to 
demonstrate an out-shoot. He was not very suc¬ 
cessful, although Laurie had to acknowledge that 
now and then the ball did deviate slightly from 
the straight line. Sometimes it deviated to such 
purpose that he couldn’t reach it at all, but 
Kewpie made no claims at such times. He said 


68 


NID AND NOD 


the ball slipped. In the end, Kewpie went back 
to his famous drop and managed to elicit faint 
applause from Laurie. 

Laurie couldn’t get his heart into the business 
this morning. Despite his efforts to forget it, 
that idiotic boast to Bob Starling kept returning 
to his mind to bother him. Either he must con¬ 
fess to Bob that he had n’t meant a word of what 
he had said or he must think up some scheme of, 
at least, pretending to seek aid for Miss Comfort. 
He liked Bob a whole lot and he valued Bob’s 
opinion of him, and he hated to confess that he 
had just let his tongue run away with him. On 
the other hand, there was n’t a thing he could do 
that would be of any practical help to Miss Com¬ 
fort. He would just have to bluff, he concluded: 
make believe that he was doing a lot of heavy 
thinking and finally just let the thing peter out. 
Quite unjustly Laurie experienced a feeling of 
mild distaste for Miss Comfort. 

In the middle of the forenoon, Bob, meeting 
him in the corridor, would have stopped him, but 
Laurie pushed by with a great display of haste, 
briefly replying in the negative to Bob’s mysteri¬ 
ously whispered inquiry: “ Anything new, 


LAURIE TO THE RESCUE 


69 


Nod?” After that, not having yet decided on any 
sort of a scheme to present to the other, Lanrie 
avoided Bob as though the latter had measles. 

At practice in the baseball cage he gave so much 
thought to the matter of saving his face with Bob 
that he made very poor work of catching and hat¬ 
ting. He was, in fact, so detached from what was 
going on that even Elk Thurston’s gibes fell on 
deaf ears. Mr. Mulford, the coach, got after 
him many times that afternoon. 

When practice was over Laurie fairly dawdled 
about the showers and dressing-room, and it was 
nearly half-past five when he finally set out for 
the Widow Deane’s, making his way there by a 
roundabout route that took him nowhere in sight 
of the Coventry place. He expected to find Ned 
there before him, but the little shop was deserted 
save for a small child buying penny candy and 
Mrs. Deane, who was waiting on the customer. 
Polly, said Mrs. Deane, had gone to Mae Fer- 
rand’s. Laurie disconsolately ordered a root- 
beer and, overcoming an inclination to sit on the 
counter, listened to Mrs. Deane’s unexciting bud¬ 
get of news. He was not very attentive, although 
Mrs. Deane never suspected the fact, and she 


70 


NID AND NOD 


might have shown some surprise when he broke 
into her account of Polly’s concern over Antoi¬ 
nette, the rabbit who lived in a box in the back 
yard, because Antoinette hadn’t been eating well 
for several days, by asking suddenly: 

“Mrs. Deane, is it straight about Miss Comfort 
having to go to the poor-farm?” 

“Oh, dear, I’m afraid so.” Mrs. Deane 
sighed. “Isn’t it a pity? I—we did want to 
take her in here with us, Laurie, but I suppose 
we simply could n’t do it. ’ ’ 

“Well, look; what about this brother of hers?” 

‘ ‘Brother ? Why, she has n’t any— ’ ’ 

“Eh! Oh, brother-in-law, I meant; the fellow 
who married her sister out in Ohio.” 

“Iowa,” Mrs. Deane corrected. “Why, I just 
don’t know. When she got word from the law¬ 
yers that she must vacate the house she wrote 
to him, but she says he never took any notice of 
her letter.” 

“Didn’t she write again? Maybe he didn’t 
get it.” 

“Why, no, she didn’t. She’s sort of—well, I 
suppose you might say proud, but I’d almost call 


LAURIE TO THE RESCUE 71 

it touchy. She just wouldn’t write another let¬ 
ter, although I advised her to.” 

“Well, what’s he want the house for?” asked 
Laurie, frowning. “Is he coming here to live in 
it, or what ? ’ ’ 

Mrs. Deane shook her head. “I don’t know, 
but I did hear that Mr. Sparks had told some one 
that they were going to tear it down and put up a 
two-family house there.” 

“He’s the banker, is n’t he? Well, I think it’s 
mighty funny that this brother-in-law chap 
does n’t write to her. She ought to get after him 
again. Or some one ought to do it for her, if she 
won’t. It does n’t seem to me, Mrs. Deane, that 
any man would want to turn his own sister-in-law 
into the poor-house. Maybe he doesn’t really 
know how she’s fixed.” 

“Well, maybe so, Laurie. I’m sure I’d like 
to think so. But letters don’t often go astray, 
and I’m afraid this Mr. Goupil—” 

“Is that his name? I ’ll say he’s a goop! 
How does he spell it?” 

“G-o-u-p-i-1, Goupil. A. G. Goupil, I think she 
said. He’s quite wealthy, or, anyway, I gathered 


72 NID AND NOD 

so from what she let fall. Makes some sort of 
machinery. The Goupil Machinery Company is 
the name. I don’t suppose it would hurt him the 
least tiny bit to let poor Miss Comfort stay right 
where she is, but sometimes it does seem that the 
more money folks have the less feeling they’ve 
got. I don’t know as I’d ought to say that, 
either, for—” 

“Do you know what place in Iowa he lives?” 

“Why, I did know, Laurie, but I don’t recall 
it now. It was a sort of funny name, though I’ve 
heard it lots of times. ’ ’ 

“Was it—was it—” Laurie realized blankly 
that he couldn’t remember the name of a single 
town or city in Iowa. Mrs. Deane watched him 
expectantly. Laurie concentrated hard and, at 
last, “Was it Omaha?” he asked. Then, as Mrs. 
Deane shook her head, “anyway,” he added, 
“that’s in Nebraska, come to think of it.” 

“It seems to me,” mused Mrs. Deane, “that it 
was a—a sort of Indian name, like—like—” 

i 4 Sioux City! ’ ’ shouted Laurie. 

“That’s it,” agreed Mrs. Deane, quite pleased. 
“I don’t see how you ever thought of it. Sioux 
City, Iowa; yes, that was it.” 



LAURIE TO THE RESCUE 


73 


Laurie was writing oil the back of a piece of 
paper with his fountain-pen. “Look here, Mrs. 
Deane,” he said eagerly, “why don’t we write to 
this Goop ourselves, if she won’t? Or why don’t 
we telegraph him? That would be better, because 
folks always pay more attention to telegrams 
than they do to letters. Only”—Laurie’s face 
clouded a trifle—“I wonder how much it costs to 
Sioux City.” 

“Why—why—,” began Mrs. Deane a little 
breathlessly, “do you think it would be quite 
right? You see, Laurie, maybe I’d ought to con¬ 
sider what she told me as confidential. I’m not 
sure she would like it a bit, she’s so sort of 
touch—proud. ’ ’ 

“Well, you stay out of it, then,” said Laurie 
resolutely. “I ’ll attend to it myself, and if 
there’s any blame, why, I ’ll take it. But I cer¬ 
tainly do think that some one ought to—ought to 
do something, Mrs. Deane. Don’t you?” 

“Well, I suppose they ought, Laurie, maybe. 
But perhaps it’s taking a good deal on yourself 
—I mean— 

“She needn’t know anything about it unless 
Goop comes across with an answer, and what she 



74 


NIX) AND NOD 


does n’t know is n’t going to hurt her. You leave 
it to me, and don’t say anything about it to Miss 
Comfort. I ’ll send this Goop guy a telegram 
that ’ll wake him up. He ain’t so well in his 
goop. .He ought to see—” 

“Hello!” 

That was Polly, to the accompaniment of the 
tinkling hell in the next room. 

“Don’t tell Polly!” hissed Laurie, and Polly’s 
mother somewhat blankly nodded agreement. 

“We’ve been talking about Miss Comfort,” an¬ 
nounced Laurie as Polly joined them. 

“Oh, is there anything new, mama? Has she 
heard from the lawyers again?” 

“Not that I know of,” answered Mrs. Deane. 
“I haven’t seen her yet. She said she’d bring 
over those cream-puffs and the layer-cake, but 
she hasn’t.” 

“Shall I run over and ask about them?” 

“N-no, I don’t think you’d better, dear. I 
dare say she’s just too upset to get things baked. 
I know myself how contrary ovens will act when 
you can’t give your whole mind to them. Maybe 
she ’ll be over in a little while.” 

Miss Comfort remained the subject of conver- 


LAURIE TO THE RESCUE 


75 


sation for another ten minutes, and then Laurie, 
suddenly realizing that it was alarmingly close 
to dinner-time, winked meaningly at Mrs. Deane, 
said good night, and bolted. This time he made 
no attempt to avoid Bob Starling. Boh, however, 
was not in sight as Laurie sped by the big house. 

“I ’ll telephone him to come over after din¬ 
ner,” reflected Laurie. “I sort of promised to 
let him in on it. Besides, I ’ll bet it costs a lot 
to telegraph to Iowa! ’ ’ 



CHAPTER VI 


LAURIE TALKS TOO MUCH 

B UT Laurie didn’t have to telephone to Bob. 

Bob was waiting in No. 16 when the twins 
returned from supper. There had been no oppor¬ 
tunity to take Ned into his confidence in dining- 
hall, and, since Laurie wouldn’t have thought of 
embarking on even the most inconsequential en¬ 
terprise without his brother’s aid, the first step, 
as he now saw it, was to put Ned in possession of 
the facts. So, closing and locking the door in 
the manner of a conspirator, Laurie faced the 
eager Bob and the mystified Ned and began the 
recital of the pathetic story of Miss Comfort. 
And, as Laurie told it, it certainly was pathetic. 
Having found, as he believed, a way of making 
good his boast to Bob the day before, he set out 
determinedly to win his hearers to the cause. He 
not only wanted moral aid and counsel but pecu¬ 
niary assistance in the matter of that telegram to 

Sioux City! So he made a very moving story of 

76 


LAURIE TALKS TOO MUCH 


77 


it, picturing Miss Comfort as a penniless and 
hard-working little woman battling heroically 
against the tides of adversity with unfaltering 
courage, Mr. Goupil as a monster of cruelty, and 
Mr. Goupil’s lawyer as a fiend in human form. 
Miss Comfort’s age was now given as ‘‘over 
eighty,” an estimate that caused Bob to gasp. 
Laurie even attempted to dwell on the horrors of 
existence for a well bred lady like Miss Comfort 
on the poor-farm. But, never having had close 
acquaintance with such an institution, he had to 
confine himself to generalities and dark insinu¬ 
ations, and, discovering that his audience was not 
as much impressed as he meant them to be, he 
wisely switched back to Miss Comfort herself and 
told how> in the winter, too poverty-stricken to 
buy coal for the furnace, she lived in the kitchen, 
while her brother-in-law, rolling in riches, gave 
her no thought. 

Ned, who, at the beginning of the narrative, had 
worn a smile of careless, tolerant amusement, 
was soon frowning troubledly. Then indignation 
swelled within him, and he glowered darkly upon 
Laurie as though the latter was all to blame for 
Miss Comfort’s plight. Bob appeared moved al- 


78 NID AND NOD 

most to tears. As an orator Laurie did himself 
proud on that occasion. By the time he had fin¬ 
ished he was almost as much moved as his hear¬ 
ers. 

There had been, of course, interruptions, but 
they had been few, and Laurie had waved them 
aside. Now, at the end, both Ned and Bob 
wanted many things explained to them. Thanks, 
however, to his talk that afternoon with Mrs. 
Deane and, later, with Polly, Laurie was in a 
position to answer all questions promptly and 
lucidly. When, as infrequently occurred, his 
knowledge was insufficient, he answered just the 
same. He grudgingly struck off ten years from 
Miss Comfort’s age at Bob’s behest, but to all 
other statements he clung tenaciously. 

“Another thing I don’t understand,” said Ned, 
“is why some of the folks she knows don’t give 
her a home. There must be lots of people in 
Orstead who would be glad to take her in.” 

“What good would that do?” asked Laurie. 

‘ 1 They might give her a room to sleep in, but how 
would she live? You know perfectly well that 
they wouldn’t be willing to let her use their 
kitchen to make her cakes and things in. And if 


LAURIE TALKS TOO MUCH 79 

slie doesn't make cake and sell it she can't buy 
food or clothes—" 

Lanrie paused, suddenly remembering that he 
had neglected to mention the pathetic fact that 
Miss Comfort had worn the same dress for years 
and years. He wished he hadn’t forgotten that, 
and he wondered if it was too late now to bring 
it in. 

“Well, I '11 say it's mighty hard luck for the 
poor woman," said Ned finally, “but I'm blessed 
if I can see what any of us can do. If you've 
got any silly idea in your head that Bob and I 
are going to buy a house for Miss Comfort to 
spend the rest of her days in—" 

“Don't be an ass," begged Laurie. 

“All right, but why the locked door, then? And 
why all the—the talk about it?" 

“Nod's got a scheme," said Bob, and he 
beamed trustfully at Laurie. 

Ned grunted suspiciously. “Bet you it calls 
for money," he said. 

“It does n't," replied Laurie. “At least, only 
a few pennies. The price of a telegram to Sioux 
City, Iowa, and, divided among the three of us, 
that won't amount to anything, I guess." 


80 


NID AND NOD 


“Sioux City, Iowa?” exclaimed Ned. “What 
for? Why not send it to New York? It 
would n’t cost nearly so much.” 

“Because, you blithering idiot,” responded 
Laurie, “this Goop fellow doesn’t live in New 
York. He lives in Sioux City.” 

“Mean you ’re going to telegraph to him?” 
asked Bob excitedly. “What are you going to 
say?” 

“Count me out,” said Ned. “This isn’t our 
affair at all, and you ’ll get yourself in trouble if 
you butt in on it. ’ ’ 

Laurie viewed his brother disappointedly and 
sighed. Now he would have to start all over 
again! ‘ ‘ Gee, ’ ’ he said sadly, ‘ * I thought you had 

a heart, Ned.” 

‘ ‘ I have, ’ ’ answered Ned. “ And I’ve got some 
common sense, too.” 

“Sure, but now listen, will you? I talked it 
all over with Mrs. Deane and Polly, and they 
agreed that—well, Mrs. Deane did, anyhow—that 
if Miss Comfort wouldn’t write to her brother- 
in-law some one ought to do it for her. And—” 

“Glad Polly had some sense, if you hadn’t,” 
said Ned, 


LAUEIE TALKS TOO MUCH 81 

“Polly wasn’t there then. Now, listen, will 
you?” 

“Yes, let him tell you, Ned,” begged Bob. 

“Gosh, I am listening! But I don’t hear any¬ 
thing but piffle, and—” 

“It isn’t piffle, you stubborn chump. Some 
one ’s got to do something, haven’t they? You 
don’t want to see that poor old lady dumped right 
out on the sidewalk, do you? At her age? 
Nearly—” Laurie stifled “ninety” and substi¬ 
tuted “eighty.” “Gee, I supposed you’d be 
glad to help, instead of—of throwing obstacles 
in the way. Gee, supposing she was your aunt 
or—or something—” 

“She is n’t,” said Ned briefly. 

“Well, she might be. If she was—” 

“I guess she’s somebody’s aunt,” said Bob 
feelingly. 

6 i Oh, shut up! I’d like to help her, of course, 
you idiots, but I don’t see where we have any 
right to butt in and—” 

t 

“That’s what I’m trying to explain to you,” 
interrupted Ned. “If you ’ll just listen a min¬ 
ute—” 

Ten minutes later Ned capitulated. Two min- 


82 


NID AND NOD 


utes after that the three boys were busy concoct¬ 
ing a telegram to send to Mr. Goupil in Sioux 
City, Iowa. It was decided that each should com¬ 
pose what he considered the proper message and 
that they would subsequently write a fourth draft 
comprised of the best points of each. So they 
each set to work with pencil and paper and fur¬ 
rowed brows, and for several minutes all was 
very still in No. 16, East Hall. Having given 
the matter some previous thought, Laurie natu¬ 
rally finished first. Then Bob’s composition was 
laid on the desk, and finally, considerably later, 
Ned’s. 

Laurie read them aloud, Bob’s first. Bob’s 
was as follows: 

“A. G. Goupil, 

“ Goupil Machinery Co., 

4 ‘Sioux City, Iowa. 

“What ’s the big idea turning your sister-in-law into 
street at her age? You ought to be ashamed.” 

“Gee,” laughed Laurie, “you don’t mind how 
many words you use, do you?” 

“You do it in less,” challenged Bob indig¬ 
nantly. 


LAURIE TALKS TOO MUCH 83 

“I have. Here 's Ned's: 

“Sister-in-law to be turned out of home unless you 
come to rescue immediately.” 

‘ ‘ Sounds as though you meant your own sister- 
in-law,” commented Laurie. “That's not bad, 
though.' ' 

“Sounds all right to me,” said Ned. “Let's 
hear yours.” 

“Is Miss Comfort being evicted from house by your 
order? Public opinion in arms. Answer.” 

“Huh,” said Ned, “public opinion can't be ‘in 
arms,' you silly chump.” 

“That's only two words less than mine,” said 
Bob. 

“Well, we 'll see if we can't get it into ten,” 
replied Laurie untroubledly. “Now then!” He 
took up his pencil again. “We might say ‘Com¬ 
fort' instead of ‘Miss Comfort,' but it doesn't 
sound quite respectful.” 

“Leave out ‘from house,' ” suggested Bob. 
“He will understand that she is n’t being evicted 
from the stable!” 

“That's so! ‘Is Miss Comfort being evicted 


84 NID AND NOD 

by your order? Public opinion—er—’ ” 

“ ‘ Against it/ ” offered Ned. 

“ ‘ Opposed/ ” said Bob. 

“I Ve got it!*’ exclaimed Laurie, erasing and 
starting a new draft. “How ’s this? ‘Have you 
authorized eviction aged sister-in-law? Orstead 
indignant. Answer immediately.’ That ought 
to fetch him I Only ten words, too !” 

‘ ‘ How about sister-in-law ?’ ’ asked Bob. ‘ ‘ Will 
they call it one word or three ?” 

“One, of course. Or ‘aged relative y might do 
just as well. ‘Orstead indignant 7 will give him a 
jolt, I ’ll bet!” 

“What are you going to sign it?” asked Ned 
anxiously. 

Laurie hadn’t thought of that. Bob suggested 
“Friend,” but Ned reminded him that if they ex¬ 
pected to get a reply they’d have to give more of 
an address than that. Laurie took a deep breath 
and leaped the Rubicon. He signed “Laurence 
S. Turner” boldly and drew a heavy mark under 
it for emphasis. Ned shook his head doubtfully, 
but Bob was thrilled. 

“He will probably think you ’re one of the 
town’s leading citizens,” he chuckled. 



LAUEIE TALKS TOO MUCH 


85 


“Well, so I am,” answered Lanrie, “in this 
affair. Now we ’ll go down and get it off at night- 
rates.” 

“Say,” said Ned, “we ’re a set of dumb-bells! 
We could have sent a night-letter of fifty words 
for the same price.” 

“That’s so,” admitted Laurie. “I think a 
night-letter costs a little more, though, doesn’t 
it? Anyway, this is more—more succinct. 
It sounds more businesslike. What do you 
think?” 

They agreed that it did, and presently, a fresh 
copy of the message in his pocket, Laurie led the 
way from the room, followed by the others. The 
languid youth who accepted the telegram at the 
office appeared to hesitate over “sister-in-law,” 
but he made no objection to its inclusion as one 
word, and he brightened perceptibly as the sense 
of the message percolated in his mind. He looked 
curiously at the three boys, re-read the message, 
and then shook his head incredulously. 

“Sick ’em, Prince,” he murmured. 

The cost of the telegram was less than Laurie 
had dared hope it would be, and in the first mo¬ 
ment of relief he magnanimously offered to pay a 



86 


NID AND NOD 


full half. Fortunately for his purse, though, the 
others insisted on sharing equally, and, the second 
moment having now arrived, Laurie allowed them 
to do it. 

Returning to school, Ned was preyed on by 
doubts. Now that the telegram was an accom¬ 
plished fact, he spoke dismally of the laws con¬ 
cerning libel. When Laurie refused to be con¬ 
cerned he wanted to know what they were to do 
if Mr. Goupil wired back that he had authorized 
Miss Comfort’s eviction. Laurie wasn’t pre¬ 
pared to answer that question. “We ’ll cross 
that bridge when we come to it,” he replied with 
dignity. 

As a matter of fact, Laurie didn’t intend to 
do anything in such a case. He had saved his 
face, and that was sufficient. After this he meant 
to refrain from too much talking and keep out 
of affairs that didn’t concern him. Unfortu¬ 
nately, as he was to discover, it is frequently 
easier to start than it is to stop, and to make 
good resolutions than to follow them! 

As he secretly considered the episode ended, 
Laurie would have put Miss Comfort and Mr. A. 
G. Goupil completely out of his mind for the rest 


LAURIE TALKS TOO MUCH 


87 


of the evening if Ned hadn’t insisted on specu¬ 
lating as to the effect of the telegram on the ad¬ 
dressee. Ned just couldn’t seem to let the sub¬ 
ject alone. Laurie became very much bored, and 
when Ned, later, came out with the brilliant sug¬ 
gestion of having Miss Comfort added to the 
school faculty as professor of pastry Laurie 
threw a book at him. 

The following morning Kewpie was absolutely 
exasperating when they met beside the gym¬ 
nasium. He had brought his precious book with 
him and insisted on pausing between pitches 
to study diagrams and directions, occasioning 
long waits and leaving Laurie with nothing to do 
save indulge in feeble sarcasms that affected 
Kewpie no whit. Kewpie was struggling with 
what he earnestly told Laurie was an out-drop. 
Laurie sarcastically replied that Kewpie was at 
liberty to call it anything he pleased, out-drop, 
floater, in-shoot, or fade-away; they all looked 
the same to him when Kewpie pitched ’em! 
Kewpie looked almost hurt, and Laurie recalled 
Polly’s injunction not to discourage the aspirant 
for pitching honors, and so presently told Kewpie 
that one of his offerings “looked pretty good.” 


88 


NID AND NOD 


After that Kewpie cheered up a lot and pitched 
a ball high over the back-stop. 

All that day Laurie looked for a telegram. It 
was, he thought, inconceivable that the Goop guy, 
as he privately called Mr. A. G. Goupil, should de¬ 
lay in answering such a communication, and when, 
after school was over for the day, no telegram 
had been delivered at East Hall, he hurried down 
to the telegraph office and made inquiries. The 
man in charge, who was not the one who had 
been on duty the evening before, went to a deal 
of trouble before informing Laurie that no mes¬ 
sage had been received. Going back, Laurie pon¬ 
dered. It might mean that Mr. Goupil had chosen 
to communicate with his lawyer instead of him, 
Laurie. Or it might mean that Mr. Goupil was 
taking time to consider the matter. Laurie dis¬ 
missed the business from his mind, and, although 
well ahead of time, went over to the gymnasium 
and leisurely donned his baseball togs. There 
had been talk of getting out on the field to-day, but 
the turf was still a little too soft. 

In the baseball cage four other early arrivals 
were on hand; Nate Beedle, Hillman’s first-choice 
pitcher, Captain Dave Brewster, third baseman, 


LAURIE TALKS TOO MUCH 89 

Gordon Simkins, in-field candidate, and Elkins 
Thurston. The last two were passing, while 
Beedle and Brewster sat on the floor with their 
backs against the wire. 

4 ‘Hello, Nod!” greeted Nate. “Hear you’ve 
started a kindergarten for pitchers, sonny.” 

Nate was a nice chap, and Nod didn’t mind 
being “ragged” by him a bit. “Yes, that ’s so,” 
Laurie agreed. “Want to join?” 

The others laughed; all save Elk. Elk, toss¬ 
ing the ball back to Simkins, sneered, ‘ ‘ The way I 
got it, Proudtree’s trying to teach Turner how to 
catch! ’ ’ 

“Fact is,” replied Laurie, “it’s sort of mutual. 
Kewpie’s improving his pitching, and I’m im¬ 
proving my catching. ’ ’ 

“Can he pitch at all?” asked Dave Brewster. 

“Kewpie? Well, he hasn’t much just now, 
but—” 

“But you ’re teaching him the trick, eh?” 
jeered Elk. “Say, Nate, you’d better watch out 
or you ’ll lose your job.” 

Nate laughed good-naturedly. “That’s right. 
I ’ll say one thing, though. If Kewpie could 
pitch the way he can play center I’d be worried. 


90 NIB AND NOD 

Does he think he can get on the squad, Nod?” 

‘ 1 Guess he’d like to.” 

“He ’s got a swell chance,” said Elk. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” answered Laurie. “They 
took you on.” 

“Is that so? Don’t get fresh, youngster. I 
suppose you think you’ve got such a pull with 
Pinky that he ’ll take on any fellow you recom¬ 
mend. Say, Nate, can’t you just see Proudtree 
running bases?” And Elk laughed vociferously. 

Laurie, just at present inclined to resent any¬ 
thing that Elk said, merely on general principles, 
found cause for added resentment now. Kewpie 
was both friend and pupil, and consequently dis¬ 
paragement of Kewpie was disparagement of 
him. Simpkins’s remark that Kewpie had shown 
pretty good speed on the football field was cut 
into by Laurie with: 

“He is n’t out to become a sprinter, Elk. He’s 
going to be a pitcher. You don’t expect a pitcher 
to be much of a hand on the bases. As for his 
chance of getting on the squad, well, when I get 
through with him I guess he can have a place if 
he wants it.” 

“When you— Oh, my sainted aunt!” cried 


LAURIE TALKS TOO MUCH 


91 


Elk. “When you get through with him! What 
do you know about pitching, I’d like to know? 
You Ye a swell teacher, you are! You never 
caught behind the plate until two or three weeks 
ago.” 

“What of it? That doesn’t prevent me from 
knowing a natural-born pitcher when I see him. 
And if—” 

“Natural-born pitcher! Kewpie Proudtree? 
Don’t make me laugh! I ’ll bet he can’t pitch a 
straight ball!” 

“Can’t, eh? Listen, Elk. Kewpie’s a better 
pitcher right now than you are a catcher. If he 
was n’t I would n’t bother with him. ” 

“Oh, piffle! He can’t pitch and you can’t teach 
him, kid. And as for catching, if I dropped every 
ball that comes over I wouldn’t be shooting my 
mouth off, you fresh guy!” 

“I get my glove on ’em, and that’s more than 

V . 

you do, Elk, old son. And if you think I don’t 
know what I’m talking about when I say that 
Kewpie’s got the making of a pitcher, why, you 
just keep your eyes open.” 

“Sure! You’re going to have him on the 
squad next week, I suppose!” 


92 


NID AND NOD 


“No, not next week, but I ’ll tell you one thing. 
He will be pitching for this team before the sea¬ 
son ’s over!” 

“What!” It was a chorus of blank incredu¬ 
lity. Then there was laughter, through which 
struggled Nate’s voice saying, “Nod, you ’re as 
crazy as a coot!” The burst of merriment acted 
on Laurie somewhat like a wet sponge on the face 
of a sleeper. He awoke suddenly to the enormity 
of his assertion, and caution urged him to prompt 
retraction, or, at least, compromise. But there 
was Elk Thurston grinning and sneering, his very 
attitude a challenge. Laurie swallowed hard and 
summoned a smile of careless ease to his coun¬ 
tenance. 

“You heard what I said,” he remarked calmly. 

Then Coach Mulford came in, and the die was 
cast. Laurie waved a nonchalant hand to Dave 
Brewster. In appearance he looked as care-free 
and untroubled as any person there, but to him¬ 
self he was saying bitterly, “There, you poor 
fish, you’ve been and gone and done it again! ’ ’ 


CHAPTER VII 


POLLY APPROVES 

P RACTICE over, Laurie set out to find Ned. 

He was very low in his mind, was Laurie, 
and he wanted comfort in the worst way. But 
Ned wasn’t in the room. The door of No. 15, 
across the corridor, was half ajar, and through it 
issued the voice of Kewpie. “That you, Nidi” 
inquired Kewpie. “Say, come in here. I’ve—” 
“No!” replied Laurie emphatically as he hur¬ 
ried. toward the stairs. Kewpie Proudtree was 
the last person in the whole world he wanted to 
hold converse with just then. In fact, he was n’t 
sure that he would be able to control himself in 
Kewpie’s presence. Murder, he reflected gloom¬ 
ily, had been committed for less cause than he 
had! 

He set out toward the Widow Deane’s, going 
the long way around, since he had no heart for 
Bob Starling’s questions and surmises regarding 
Mr. A. G. Goupil. He had so thoroughly for- 

93 


94 


NID AND NOD 


gotten that flinty-liearted person that he had not 
even looked on the table in No. 16 to see if the 
telegram had arrived, and only the thought of en¬ 
countering Bob had reminded him of it. Turn¬ 
ing into Garden Street, he heard some one call: 
“Oh, Ned! Oo-ee!” It was no new thing to be 
mistaken for Ned. During the first two months, 
or thereabouts, of their stay at Hillman’s, he and 
Ned had been daily, hourly, almost constantly 
mistaken one for the other, and even to this mo¬ 
ment such mistakes were not uncommon, which, 
considering the fact that the twins were as alike 
as two peas, was not unnatural. He was n’t Ned, 
but he turned to see who was calling. It proved 
to be Mae Ferrand. She was on the opposite side 
of the street waving to him. Laurie crossed with 
little enthusiasm. 

“Hello,” he said. “I’m looking for him, too, 
Mae. ’ ’ 

“Oh, it’s Laurie!” she exclaimed. “I do wish 
you boys wouldn’t dress just alike!” 

“We don’t,” said Laurie somberly. “He’s 
wearing brown stockings, and I’m wearing 
green.” He looked down at them. “Sort of 
green, anyway.” 


POLLY APPROVES 


95 


“Just as though any one could tell you by 
that,” laughed Mae. “Are you going to 
Polly’s?” 

Laurie acknowledged that he was, and they went 
on together. “Isn’t it too bad about that poor, 
dear little Miss Comfort?” asked Mae. “Polly 
told you, did n’t she?” 

Laurie nodded. “Yes,” he answered. “Yes, 
it is too bad. At her age, too. Eighty-some¬ 
thing, is n’t she?” 

“Why, no, of course not! The idea! She 
can’t be a day over sixty-five.” 

“Oh!” Laurie sounded a trifle disappointed. 
“Well, that’s different, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, I suppose it is,” agreed Mae without, 
however, quite getting his point of view, “but 
it does n’t make it much easier for her, I guess.” 

“N-no.” Laurie was acquiring something 
close to distaste for the subject. “Well, some¬ 
thing may turn up,” he added vaguely, “before 
the first of the month. ’ ’ 

“I hope so,” said Mae. But she didn’t sound 
hopeful. Laurie was glad when she changed the 
subject with her next remark, although he could 
have chosen a more welcome one: “Polly says 


96 


NID AND NOD 


that the—the conspiracy is working just beauti¬ 
fully, Laurie. She says that Kewpie Proudtree 
is quite like another boy the last day or two. Is 
he doing any better with his pitchingf” 

Laurie turned and regarded her balefully. 
“Better? No, and he never will,” he answered 
disgustedly. “Why that poor prune could n’t 
pitch ball if—if—” He stopped, suddenly recall¬ 
ing his statements made in the cage a scant hour 
and a half since. He felt rather confused. Mae 
nodded sympathetically. 

“Well, I think it ’s darling of you to take so 
much trouble with him, ’ ’ she said. ‘ ‘ Sometimes I 
think that friendship means so much more with 
boys than it does with girls.” 

“Friendship!” blurted Laurie. 

“Why, yes, don’t you call it friendship? 
Every one knows what great pals you and Kewpie 
have been all winter. I think it’s perfectly 
lovely!’ ’ 

“Huh,” growled Laurie. 

“For goodness’ sake, what is the matter with 
you to-day?” asked Mae concernedly. “You ’re 
—you ’re awfully funny!” 

Laurie summoned a mirthless and hollow laugh. 


POLLY APPROVES 97 

“I’m all right,” he replied, 4 ‘only I—I Ve got a 
lot of things to think of just now, and—” 

Further explanation was spared him, for just 
then they reached the shop and Laurie opened 
the door with a sigh of relief. Ned was there, 
and so were Polly and Mrs. Deane. Laurie mo¬ 
rosely declined the offer of a soda, slung himself 
to a counter, met the surprised and mildly disap¬ 
proving gaze of the Widow, and got down again. 
The talk, interrupted by their arrival, began once 
more. Of course it was about Miss Comfort. 
(Mrs. Deane had been to see her that forenoon.) 
She had n’t heard again from the lawyer or from 
her brother-in-law, and she had begun to pack her 
things. Laurie felt Ned’s gaze on him and 
turned. Ned’s look was inquiring. Laurie 
didn’t know what he meant by it, and frowned 
his perplexity. Ned worked around to him and 
whispered in his ear. 

“Did it come? Did you get it?” he asked. 

“Get what?” 

‘ ‘ Shut up! The telegram, you chump! ’ ’ 

“Oh! No, I don’t think so.” 

“You don’t think —” began Ned in impatient 
sibilation. 


98 


NID AND NOD 


“What are you two whispering about?” in¬ 
quired Polly. 

“Oh, nothing,” answered Ned airily. 

“Ned Turner, don’t tell fibs,” said Polly 
severely. “There ’s something going on that we 
don’t know about, Mae. Mama’s in on it, too. 
I can tell. She can no more hide a secret than 
she can fly. And I don’t think, ’ ’ ended Polly with 
deep pathos, “that it’s very nice of you to have 
a secret from Mae and me.” 

Ned looked concerned and apologetic. He 
viewed Laurie inquiringly. ‘ ‘ Shall we tell 
them?” he asked. Laurie shrugged. 

“I don’t care,” he answered moodily. 

“Oh, of course, if you don’t want us to know,” 
began Polly very haughtily. Laurie managed a 
most winning smile. 

“Of course I do,” he assured her. “I—I was 
going to tell you, anyhow. ’ ’ 

Polly didn’t look wholly convinced, but, 
“Well?” she said. “Go on and tell, then.” 
Laurie waved toward Ned. 

* 4 Let him do it, ’ ’ he said. 

•So Ned confessed about the telegram to Mr. 
Goupil, taking rather more credit to himself than, 


POLLY APPROVES 


99 


perhaps, the facts warranted—something that 
might have brought a protest from Laurie had 
that youth been any longer interested in what 
to him seemed now a closed incident. Polly ex¬ 
claimed applaudingly; Mae clapped her hands; 
and Mrs. Deane, proud of the fact that for once in 
her life she had managed, if only for a few short 
hours, to keep something secret from her 
daughter, beamed. Then praise was fairly 
lavished on Laurie and Ned, the former receiv¬ 
ing the lion’s share, since the brilliant idea had 
been born in his stupendous brain. Laurie 
looked decidedly bored, and the feminine portion 
of the assembly credited his expression to mod¬ 
esty. 

“Oh, Laurie,” exclaimed Polly, “I think you ’re 
perfectly wonderful! Don’t you, Mae ? ’ ’ 

Mae was enthusiastically affirmative. 

“It was just the one absolutely practical thing 
to do,” continued Polly. “And I don’t see how 
Mr. Gou—Gou—whatever his name is—will dare 
to go on with his disgusting plan, do you? If 
that telegram doesn’t make him perfectly 
ashamed of himself, it—it—well, it ought 
to!” 



> > 
j ) > 




100 


NID AND NOD 


‘‘Sort of funny, though,” said Ned, 41 that he 
hasn’t answered before this. If he doesn’t an¬ 
swer at all—well, do you think we ought to send 
him another, Laurie?” 

Laurie shook his head. “No good,” he said 
briefly. 

“Oh, but he will answer it,” declared Polly. 
“Why, he’d simply have to! His own self- 
respect would—would demand it!” 

‘ ‘ Of course! ’ ’ agreed Mae. ‘ ‘ Maybe there’s a 
telegram waiting for you now, Laurie.” 

‘ 1 That’s so. ’ ’ Laurie spoke with more anima¬ 
tion. “Let’s go and see, Ned.” 

“I didn’t say anything about it to Miss Com¬ 
fort,” observed Mrs. Deane in the tone of one ask¬ 
ing commendation. 

“Oh, no, you mustn’t,” said Polly. “If—if 
nothing came of it, after all, she’d be too disap¬ 
pointed. Laurie, if Mr. Whatshisname still in¬ 
sists on—on things going ahead as they are go¬ 
ing, what will you do then ? ’ ’ 

“Me?” Laurie regarded her unemotionally. 
Then he shrugged. “Why, I guess that would 
settle it, wouldn’t it? Isn’t anything more I 
could do, is there ? Or any of us ? ” 


t 




POLLY APPROVES 101 

“Oh, Laurie!” exclaimed Mae in vast disap¬ 
pointment. Polly, though, only laughed. 

“Don’t be silly, Mae,” she said. “Of course 
he ’s only fooling. You ought to know Laurie 
well enough to know that he is n’t going to give 
up as easily as all that. I ’ll just bet you any¬ 
thing he knows this very minute what he means 
to do. Only he doesn’t want to tell us yet.” 

“I don’t, either,” protested Laurie vehe¬ 
mently. “Look here, this isn’t any atfair of 
mine, and—and—” 

“Just what I told him,” said Mrs. Deane 
agreeably. “I think he’s been very nice to take 
such an interest and so much trouble, but I’m 
sure he can’t be expected to do any more, 
Polly.” 

Polly smiled serenely. She shared the smile 
between her mother and a disquieted Laurie. 
Then she slipped an arm around Mae and gave 
her a squeeze. “We know, don’t we, Mae!” she 
asked. 

Laurie stared helplessly for a moment. Then 
he seized Ned by the arm and dragged him to¬ 
ward the door. “Come on,” he said despair¬ 
ingly. ‘ ‘Come on home! ’ ’ 


102 


NID AND NOD 


“Say,” demanded Ned, once they were on the 
street, “what in the world’s the matter with 
you?” 

“Matter with me?” repeated Lanrie a trifle 
wildly. “The matter with me is that I talk too 
blamed much! That’s the matter with me! 
The matter with me—” 

“Yes, yes,” agreed Ned soothingly, “yes, yes, 
old-timer. But what ’s the present difficulty? 
Of course they don’t really expect us to find a 
home for Miss Comfort, if that’s what’s biting 
you. ’ ’ 

“Well, I should hope not! But—but, listen, 
Neddie. Do you think Kewpie knows enough 
about pitching to ever amount to a hill of beans? 
Do you think that, if he practised like anything 
all spring, he could—could get on the team?” 

“Why, no, of course not,” replied Ned calmly. 
“Haven’t you said so yourself a dozen times?” 

“Yes. Yes, and now I’ve gone and said he 
could! ’ ’ 

“Who could? Could what?” 

“Kewpie. Be a pitcher and get on the team.” 

“Are you plumb loco?” asked Ned in astonish¬ 
ment. 


POLLY APPROVES 103 

No. ’ ’ Laurie shook his head mournfully. 
“No, it isn’t that. I—I just talk too blamed 
much.’ 9 

“Well, who have you been talking to now? 
Get it off your chest, partner.” 

So Laurie told him. The narrative lasted un¬ 
til they had reached their room, and after, and 
when, at last, Laurie ended his doleful tale Ned 
looked at him in silence for a long, long moment. 
Finally, “You half-portion of nothing!” breathed 
Ned pityingly. “You—you poor fish!” 

“Well, what could I do?” asked Laurie. “I 
wasn’t going to let Elk make me look like a 
fool.” 

‘ ‘ Huh! What do you think you look like now ? 9 9 

Laurie began to prepare for supper without 
replying. He acted as if chastened and worried. 
Ned watched him for a minute in frowning per¬ 
plexity. At last the frown vanished. “Well, 
what are you going to do?” he asked. 

Laurie shrugged. “How do I know? I did 
think that maybe somehow or other Kewpie could 
learn to pitch, but I guess you ’re right about 
him. He never could.” 

“No, but he’s got to!” was Ned’s astounding 


104 


NID AND NOD 


answer. “We ’ve got to see that he does, Lanrie. 
You J ve said you were going to make a pitcher of 
him— ’ ’ 

6 ‘ I did n’t actually say 1 was going to do it. ’ ’ 
“Well, some one. You Ve said he was going 
to pitch on the team this season. You might as 
well have said that I was going to be made Presi¬ 
dent. But you said it and, by heck, you Ve got 
to make good or perish in the attempt. The 
honor of the Turners—” 

“Looks to me like the honor of the Turners 
is going to get an awful jolt,” murmured Laurie 
despondently. “Making a pitcher out of Ivewpie 
—Gee, Ned, the fellow who made a purse out of 
a pig ’s ear had a snap!’ 9 

“It ’s got to be done,” reiterated Ned firmly. 
“After supper we ’ll decide how. Hold on, 
though! We don’t actually have to have him a 
real pitcher, son. All we have to do is to get him 
on the team just once, even if it’s only for two 
minutes, don’t you see*?” Ned’s tone was tri¬ 
umphant. 

“Yes, but how can w T e do that if he doesn’t 
know how to pitch? I don’t see that that’s go¬ 
ing to make it any easier. ’ ’ 


POLLY APPROVES 


105 


“ Maybe, maybe not. Anyhow, it helps. 
There might be some way of faking him on there. 
Well, we Ve got nearly three months to do it in, 
Laurie, so cheer up. Let r s go and eat. A truce 
to all trouble! The bell rings for supper—” 
“Of cold meat as chewy as Indian rupper!’ ? 
completed Laurie. 

“Quitter!” laughed Ned, pushing him through 
the door. 


CHAPTER VHI 


KEWPIE AGREES 

K EWPIE!” 

“Yeah?” 

“Come on over here!” It was Laurie calling 
from the doorway of No. 16. The door across 
the corridor opened, and the somewhat sleepy 
countenance of Kewpie peered forth inquiringly. 
The hour was 9:40. 

“What do you want?” asked Kewpie. “I*m 
just going to bed. I’m tired, Nod.” 

“You come over here,” was the stern, inexor¬ 
able answer. “Ned and I want to talk to you.” 

“Well, gosh, I tell you I’m sleepy,” muttered 
Kewpie, but he crossed the hall and followed 
Laurie into No. 16. Kewpie was chastely clad 
in a suit of out-size pajamas, which were white 
with a broad blue stripe at short intervals. Kew¬ 
pie in night attire looked about half again as 
large as he did when more or less confined in 

street costume. Laurie thrust the visitor into the 

106 


KEWPIE AGREES 


107 


arm-chair. Kewpie subsided with a long sigh 
and blinked wonderingly, first at Nid and then 
at the determined Nod. Then he placed a large 
and pudgy hand in the neighborhood of his face 
and yawned cavernously. 

“What’s the matter with you fellows?” he in¬ 
quired. “What are you looking at me like that 
for?” 

“Kewpie,” said Ned, “do you honestly think 
you can ever learn to pitch?” 

“What!” Kewpie woke up a trifle. “I can 
pitch right now. Who says I can’t?” 

“I do,” said Laurie emphatically. “You can 
pitch now just about as well as a toad can fly. 
What we want to know is whether, if you practise 
hard and keep at it, you can learn.” 

Kewpie looked hurt. 11 Say, what’s the matter 
with! my drop-ball?” he asked indignantly. “I 
suppose you think you could hit that, eh? Well, 
I’d like to see you try it.” 

“Cut out the bunk, Kewpie,” said Ned sternly. 
“We ’re talking business now. You know plaguey 
well you would n’t last ten seconds against a hat¬ 
ter, the way you ’re pitching now. Laurie says 
you ’ve got a fair drop, when you get it right, 


108 


NID AND NOD 


and that’s all yon have got. You haven’t— 
haven’t—• What is it he hasn’t got, Laurie!” 

“He hasn’t got anything except that drop. 
He can’t pitch a straight ball with any speed—” 

“I don’t want to. Any one can hit the fast 
ones.” 

“And he hasn’t a curve to his name. About 
all he has got is a colossal nerve.” 

“Nerve yourself,” replied Kewpie. “I don’t 
pretend to be a Joe Bush, or—or—” 

“Can you learn!” demanded Ned. “If Laurie 
and I help every way we know how, if you study 
that book of yours, if you practise hard every 
day for—for two months, say, will you be able 
to pitch decently at the end of that time!” 

Kewpie was plainly puzzled by this sudden 
and intense interest in him; puzzled and a trifle 
suspicious. “What do you want to know for!” 
he asked slowly. 

“Never mind. Answer the question.” Ned 
was very stern. 

“Sure, I’d be able to pitch after two months. 
Bet you I’d have everything there is.” 

“All right,” replied Ned. “Here’s the dope. 
Laurie and Elk Thurston and Nate Beedle and 


KEWPIE AGREES 


109 


two or three more were talking in the gym this 
afternoon, and Elk said you were no good and 
never would be able to pitch, and—” 

“Elk!” interrupted Kewpie contemptuously. 
“He’s just a big blow-hard, a bluff, a—” 

“Never mind that. Laurie said you could 
pitch and that before the season was over you ’d 

be pitching on the nine. Get that?” 

% 

Kewpie nodded, glancing from one to the other 
of the twins, but he seemed at a loss for words. 
Finally, though, he asked awedly, “Gosh, Nod, 
did you tell ’em that?” 

“Yes, like a blamed idiot I did! I guess I had 
a brain-storm or something. Well, never mind 
that now. What do you say?” 

“Me?” Kewpie cleared his throat. “Well, 
now, look here, I never told you I could pitch on 
the team, did I?” 

“If you didn’t you might just as well have,” 
answered Laurie impatiently. “You’ve been 
cracking yourself up for a month. Now, what 
Ned and I want to know—” 

“Well, but hold on! How would I get to pitch, 
with Nate Beedle and two or three others there? 
Gosh, those sharks have been at it for years! ’ ’ 


110 


NID AND NOD 


“Never yon mind how,” said Ned sharply. 
“That ’s not the question. Laurie’s gone and 
put himself in a hole, and you’ve got to help pull 
him out. Will you do it?” 

Kewpie was again silent for a moment. Then 
he nodded. “Sure,” he said dubiously. “I ’ll 
do what I can, but— 

“There aren’t any ‘buts,’ ” declared Ned. 
“If you ’ll take hold seriously and do your best 
and learn to pitch—well, fairly decently, Kewpie, 
Laurie and I ’ll look after the rest of it. We ’ll 
see that you get your chance somehow with the 
team.” 

“How are you going to do it!” asked Kewpie. 

Ned shrugged. “Don’t know yet. That ’ll 
come later. Now, what do you say? Will you 
be a game sport and buckle into it, or are you 
going to throw us down? You ’ll have to quit 
bluffing about what you can do and work like the 
dickens, Kewpie. You ’ll have to quit eating 
sweet stuff and starchy things and get rid of about 
ten pounds, too. Well?” 

Kewpie looked solemnly back at Ned for an in¬ 
stant. Then he nodded shortly. “I ’ll do it,” 
he said soberly. “Let’s go.” 


KEWPIE AGREES 


111 


The next day, which was a Saturday, the base¬ 
ball candidates forsook the gymnasium and went 
out on the field. The ground was still soft in 
spots, and the diamond was not used. There was 
a long session at the batting-net and plenty of 
fielding work to follow, and of course, the pitching 
staff unlimbered and “shot ’em over” for awhile. 
Beedle, Pemberton, and Croft comprised the staff 
at present, with two or three aspirants applying 
for membership. George Pemberton fell to 
Laurie’s share. Pemberton was not so good as 
Nate Beedle, but he had done good work for the 
team last year and he was a “comer.” Laurie, 
taking Pemberton’s shoots in his big mitten, for 
the first time since he had been transferred from 
the out-field to a position behind the plate, 
watched his pitcher’s work. Before this, Laurie 
had concerned himself wholly with the ball. Now 
he gave attention to the behavior of Pemberton, 
studying the latter’s stand, his wind-up, the way 
his body and pitching arm came forward, the way 
the ball left his hand. More than once Laurie 
became so engrossed with the pitcher that the 
ball got by him entirely. He even tried to discern 
how Pemberton placed! his fingers around the 


112 


NID AND NOD 


sphere in order to pitch that famous slow one of 
his that had foiled the best batsmen of the enemy 
last spring. But at the distance Laurie couldn’t 
get it. 

Pemberton was eighteen, tall, rather thin, 
rather awkward until he stepped into the box 
and took a baseball in his capable hand. After 
that he was as easy and graceful as a tiger. The 
difference between Pemberton’s smooth wind-up 
and delivery and Ivewpie’s laborious and jerky 
performance brought Laurie a sigh of despair. 
As he stopped a high one with his mitt and quite 
dexterously plucked it from the air with his right 
hand, Laurie was more than ever convinced that 
the campaign on which he and Ned and Kewpie 
had embarked last evening so grimly and deter¬ 
minedly was foredoomed to failure. Gee! Kewpie 
would never be able to pitch like George Pem¬ 
berton if he lived to be a hundred years old and 
practised twenty-four hours a day! Laurie al¬ 
most wished that he had been born tongue-tied! 
Later, returning to the gymnasium, Laurie 
ranged himself beside Pemberton. He had pro¬ 
vided himself with a ball, and now he offered it 
to the pitcher. 4 ‘ Say, George, show me how you 


KEWPIE AGREES 113 

hold it for that floater of yours, will you?” he 
said. 

Pemberton took the ball good-naturedly enough. 
“What are you trying to do, Nod?” he asked. 
“Get my job away from me? Well, here’s the 
way I hold it. ’ ’ He placed his long fingers about 
the ball with careful regard for the seams. “But 
holding it isn’t more than half of it, Nod. You 
see, you’ve got to flip it away just right. Your 
thumb puts the drag on it, see? When you let go 
of it it starts away like this.” Pemberton swung 
his arm through slowly and let the ball trickle 
from his hand. Laurie recovered it from a few 
paces away and stared at it in puzzled fashion. 
He guessed he wouldn’t be able to learn much 
about pitching that way. Pemberton continued 
his explanation carelessly. “You see, you’ve 
got to start it off with the right spin. That’s 
what keeps it up after a straight ball would begin 
to drop. Now you take the ‘fade-awav.’ I can’t 
pitch it, but I know how it’s done. You start 
it like this.” 

Laurie listened and looked on with only per¬ 
functory interest.- It was n’t any use, he decided. 
Learning Pemberton’s stuff and teaching it to 


114 


NID AND NOD 


Kewpie was beyond bis abilities. Besides, when 
he came to think about it, it didn’t seem quite 
fair. It was too much like stealing another fel¬ 
low’s patent. Of course there wasn’t more than 
one chance in ten that Kewpie would progress to 
the stage where he might burst on the Hillman’s 
baseball firmament as a rival to Pemberton, 
but . . . just the same . . . The next time Pem¬ 
berton let the ball go Laurie picked it up and 
dropped it in his pocket. 

The next day, Sunday, saw Ned and Laurie 
walking toward the Widow Deane’s shortly after 
dinner was over. It had become a custom to go 
for a walk on Sunday afternoons, when the 
weather was gracious, with Polly and Mae and, 
sometimes, Bob Starling or some of the other 
fellows. To-day, however, there were indications 
that a late dinner was still going on at the Star¬ 
lings’, and the twins did n’t stop for Bob. It had 
[rained during the night but a warm sun had long 
since removed all signs of it. Along the streets 
bordering School Park doors and windows were 
open to the spring-like air. In the park the few 
benches were occupied, and, beyond, in the paved 
yard of the high school, some small youths were 


KEWPIE AGREES 


115 


indulging somewhat noisily in an amusement sus¬ 
piciously like baseball. Of course it couldn’t be 
baseball, as Laurie pointed out, since the town 
laws sternly forbade that game on Sundays. At 
the further corner of Pine Street a small white 
house with faded brown shutters stood sedately 
behind a leafless and overgrown hedge of lilac. 
The twins viewed the house with new interest, for 
it was there that Miss Comfort lived. Ned 
thought that through a gap in the hedge he had 
glimpsed a face behind one of the front windows. 

“Reckon this is her last Sunday in the old 
home,” observed Ned. It sounded flippant, and 
probably he had meant that it should, but inside 
him he felt very sorry for the little old lady. It 
was not much of a house, as houses went even in 
Orstead, but it was home to Miss Comfort, and 
Ned suddenly felt the pathos of the impending 
departure. 

Laurie grunted assent as they turned the cor¬ 
ner toward the little blue painted shop. “Guess 
we are n’t going to hear from the Goop,” he said. 

“It’s three days now.” 

“We—ell, he might be away or something,” 

answered Ned. 



116 


NID AND NOD 


“I don’t believe so,” said Laurie. “He did n’t 
answer Miss Comfort’s letter, and I guess he 
is n r t going to answer our telegram. The old 
skinflint,” he added as an afterthought. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE AFTERNOON CALL 

W HICH way?” asked Ned as, a few min¬ 
utes later, they went through the gate. 
“Let’s go down to the river and along the 
road and see all the booful automobiles,” said 
Laurie. 

“It’s not my idea of a pleasant walk,” returned 
Ned, “to get entirely covered with dust and then 
run over!” 

“We ’re not going to walk,” announced Polly. 
“Anyway, not yet. We ’re going this way.” 
She and Mae turned toward School Park. 

“Not going to walk?” exclaimed Laurie. 
“What are we going to do? Polly, don’t tell me 
you’ve gone and bought an automobile!” 

“We ’re going calling,” said Polly. 

“What!” protested Ned. “Calling, did you 
say? Not much, Polly! At least, I’m not.” 
“Now, Ned Turner—” began Polly. 

“Oh, never mind him,” broke in Laurie. “I ’ll 

117 


118 


NID AND NOD 


. go calling with you, Polly. I just love to go call¬ 
ing. Have you any one specially in mind! Or 
shall we just take them as they come?’ 7 

They were crossing the street now diagonally, 
Polly and Mae in the lead. Laurie was smooth¬ 
ing his hair and settling his tie smirkingly. Ned 
looked rebellious. “Who are we going to call 
on?” he demanded dejectedly. 

“You ’ll know soon enough,” laughed Polly. 
And he did, for the next instant she had pushed 
open a little gate between the lilac hedges and 
was leading the way up the short path to Miss 
Comfort’s door. 

“Gee!” murmured Laurie. But he and Ned 
followed obediently and stared questioningly at 
Polly while somewhere at the rear of the little 
house, a bell jangled in response to her tug at the 
brown crockery knob. “What’s the big idea?” 
whispered Laurie to Mae, who was nearest. But 
Mae only shook her head. And then, with such 
promptitude as to suggest to Ned that he had 
not just imagined that face at the front window, 
the door opened, and Miss Comfort was giving 
them welcome. There were introductions in the 
small hall, during which Ned trod on Laurie’s foot 


THE AFTEENOON CALL 


119 


and Laurie pushed Mae into an umbrella-stand 
which had once been a length of drain-pipe and 
which now bore a faded design of cat-o ’-nine-tails 
and swallows; and then, somehow, they were all 
seated in the front parlor, Laurie, who had neg¬ 
lected in the confusion to leave his cap in the hall, 
trying to stuff it into a side pocket. 

The room was not over-furnished. There was 
a walnut sofa covered with faded green rep across 
one comer, a marble-topped walnut table between 
the two front windows, a bookcase midway of the 
inner wall, a number of straight chairs placed 
formally along the sides of the room, and an easy- 
chair at each window. There were also two foot¬ 
stools covered with crewel work, one of which 
Ned narrowly escaped, and a brightly hued Brus¬ 
sels carpet. A fireplace, surmounted by a white 
marble shelf, was blankly, inexorably closed by 
a glossy black sheet of iron. Two gilt candelabra 
adorned the ends of the mantel, and a black' 
marble clock, whose stumpy hands had stopped 
at twelve minutes to nine on some long-past day, 
stood squarely in the center. There was a purple 
and green square of embroidery on the table and 
a few books of unexciting appearance. Every- 


120 


NID AND NOD 


thing was spotlessly clean, immaculately neat, 
depressingly orderly. 

Polly and Mae, as usual, crowded into one of 
the easy-chairs, and Miss Comfort sat erectly in 
the other. Miss Comfort proved to be small and 
rather thin, with lightish hair that was n. ’t brown 
and wasn’t white. She had small, delicate fea¬ 
tures and dark eyes that remained very bright 
and clear. Miss Comfort might be nearly sev¬ 
enty, as Polly had stated, but there was some¬ 
thing youthful in her pleasant face, her quick 
movements, and her thin, soft voice. Laurie was 
receiving these impressions when that thin, soft 
voice pronounced his name and he discovered 
that his hostess had turned from the girls and 
was looking toward him, her head pushed forward 
a little as if, despite their brightness, her eyes 
were not as serviceable as they had been. 

‘ i Mr. Laurie,” Miss Comfort was saying, “I 
want to thank you for your interest in my affairs. 
I do think it was extremely kind of you to send 
that telegram to my brother-in-law. Although X 
am convinced that nothing will come of it, I assure 
you that I appreciate your helpfulness.” 

It was rather a precise and formal little speech, 


THE AFTERNOON CALL 


121 


and it is probable that Miss Comfort had pre¬ 
pared it in advance of the occasion. It left 
Laurie surprised and sputtering. 

“But—but—why, that’s all right—if you 
mean—” 

Polly came to his rescue: “It was mama who 
told, Laurie. She really didn’t mean to, but if 
you knew her as well as I do you’d know that she 
simply can’t keep a secret, no matter how hard 
she tried.” 

“Oh,” said Laurie. “Well, you don’t need to 
thank me—us a bit, Miss Comfort. I—we were 
mighty glad to do anything we could, and we wish 
there was more we might do. I guess Polly’s 
told you that that—er—that your brother-in-law 
hasn’t answered yet.” 

Miss Comfort nodded. “Yes, and I’m not sur¬ 
prised. Mr. Goupil is a very busy man, I sup¬ 
pose, and I dare say he hasn’t time to—to look 
after all matters himself.” 

“ Well, if you ask me—” began Laurie indig¬ 
nantly. 

“But she hasn’t,” interrupted Ned warningly. 
“I guess what Laurie was going to say, Miss 
Comfort, is that he—that is, we—both of—neither 



122 


NID AND NOD 


of us—” Laurie was smiling enjoy ably—“can 
understand how your brother-in-law could act 
so—so—” 

“Rotten,” supplied the irrepressible Laurie. 

“I know,” replied Miss Comfort. “Perhaps I 
can explain a little. You might say that Mr. 
Goupil and I are strangers. Yes, that is scarcely 
an exaggeration. My sister Amanda met him in 
New Jersey fourteen years ago when she was 
teaching school there. Amanda was much 
younger than I and—and impulsive. I knew 
nothing about Mr. Goupil until she wrote to me 
from Chicago saying that she was married and on 
her way west with her husband. I was dread¬ 
fully surprised, as you can well understand, for 
Amanda was—” Miss Comfort hesitated, coughed 
and continued—“was almost fifty years of age, 
and I had never thought of her becoming married. 
In my surprise, I fear that my letter to her was 
not—well, quite as sympathetic as it should have 
been. I suppose I showed her that I was a little 
bit hurt because she had not confided in me earlier. 
That was most unfortunate, because it led to a— 
a misunderstanding. I tried very hard to atone, 
but she never forgave me, and after two years she 



THE AFTERNOON CALL 


123 


stopped answering my letters.” Miss Comfort 
was silent a moment, gazing down at the thin 
hands folded in her lap. “I fear,” she went on 
at length, “ Amanda gathered the impression that 
I didn’t approve of her husband. Well, I don’t 
suppose I did. I mean that I didn’t approve of 
him for her. You see, he was younger than 
• Amanda by several years, and then he was a 
foreigner.” 

“A foreigner!” exclaimed Polly. “Why, I 
didn’t know that, Miss Comfort.” 

Miss Comfort nodded. “Yes, he was a French¬ 
man, Polly. Of course there are undoubtedly 
many most estimable French gentlemen, but it 

did seem to me that if Amanda had to marrv she 

«> 

might have found a man of her own race.” Miss 
Comfort sighed and then she laughed apologet¬ 
ically. “I don’t know why I ’m telling you all 
this. Oh, yes, I was trying to explain about Mr. 
Goupil, wasn’t I? Well, you see, after Amanda 
was married I never saw either her or her hus¬ 
band. They lived in Chicago a year or so and 
then moved further west, and after that I lost 
all trace of them until I received word lately of 
Amanda’s death. After that came this letter 



124 


NID AND NOD 


from the lawyer about the house. Maybe, you 
see, Mr. Goupil doesn’t feel very kindly toward 
me, and if he doesn’t I don’t suppose I should 
blame him one bit.” 

“This house belongs to him now?” asked 
Laurie. 

“Yes. My mother left a will that gave every¬ 
thing to Amanda, but allowed me the use of this 
place until Amanda’s death. Of course mother 
never meant it the way she wrote it. She just 
got a little mixed up, and as she didn’t employ 
a lawyer to do it for her, why, it stood just as she 
wrote it. I’ve often wondered,” added Miss 
Comfort, wrinkling her forehead, “what she did 
mean. I suppose she meant me to live here until 
my death, and not Amanda’s.” 

“I ’ll bet you could break a will like that,” 
declared Laurie eagerly. 

“So Mr. Whipple told me,” responded Miss 
Comfort. “He was the lawyer. He’s dead now. 
But I did n’t like to do it. It seemed kind of—of 
disrespectful to mother. Besides, I never had 
any suspicion that I would outlast poor Amanda.” 

In the ensuing silence Polly and Mae gazed 
sympathetically at Miss Comfort, who, smoothing 


THE AFTERNOON CALL 125 

the old black dress over her kness, appeared lost 
in her thoughts’. Finally: 

“Well,” began Laurie. Then he stopped, 
cleared his throat, and said: “Look here, Miss 
Comfort, I’d like to ask you— It may sound 
cheeky— Well, what I mean is, haven’t you— 
that is, are you—” Laurie’s cheeks reddened as 
he floundered on. “Haven’t you any—any 
means at all? Maybe it’s none of my busi¬ 
ness—” 

“No, Mr. Laurie, I haven’t,” replied Miss 
Comfort quietly. “There wasn’t ever much 
money after my father died, and mother’s will 
left what there was to Amanda. That was just 
as it should have been, for as long as I had this 
house I was quite all right.” She smiled gently. 
“But, land sakes, I don’t want you young folks 
to trouble your heads about me and my affairs. 
Troubles are n’t for the young, Mr. Laurie.” 

“That’s all right,” was the dogged response, 
“but—but something—somebody— It doesn’t 
seem right for you to have to go to—to that 
place!” 

“Why, I don’t know,” said Miss Comfort 
thoughtfully. “I guess lots of perfectly respect- 


126 


NID AND NOI} 

able folks have gone to the poor-farm. I dare say 
there ’s no disgrace. And they do say that the 
—the institution is conducted very nicely. No 
doubt I ’ll be quite comfortable there. And— 
and it isn’t as though I’d have to stay very 
long.” 

‘‘Oh,” exclaimed Ned relievedly, “then you 
expect to—” But Polly interrupted him. 

“Now, Miss Comfort,” cried Polly indignantly, 
“don’t you talk like that! Why, goodness 
gracious, you are n’t old at all! The—the 
idea!” 

“I should say not!” said Mae warmly. “The 
idea! ’ ’ 

Miss Comfort chuckled softly. “Well, I ain’t 
helpless yet, I know, Polly, but I’m—” she 
coughed daintily— “I’m getting along in years, 
my dear.” 

“Seems to me,” exploded Laurie, “there ought 
to be some place in this town where you could go. 
Wouldn’t you a whole lot rather live in a—a—” 
he had started to say “barn,” but changed it 
to—“a—a shed than go to that poor-farm 
place?” 

“Why, yes, I don’t know but what I would,” 


THE AFTERNOON CALL 


127 


said Miss Comfort, 4 ‘as long as it had a roof and 
I could go on with my work. But I’m afraid I 
could n’t even pay the rent for a shed, Mr. Laurie. 
Now I ain’t going to let you talk a minute longer 
about me. Why, I’m just ashamed of myself!” 
She arose quickly and crossed to the door with 
short, firm steps. “Will you excuse me a min¬ 
ute?” she asked. 

When she had gone the four visitors looked at 
each other silently. Finally, “Rotten shame, I 
call it,” muttered Laurie. Ned nodded agree¬ 
ment. Polly, whose gaze was fixed on Laurie ex¬ 
pectantly, said suddenly: “Laurie, if you have 
anything in mind I think you’d ought to tell her. 
It might make her feel more comfortable.” 

“Anything in mind?” echoed Laurie. “I 
haven’t. At least, only—” 

Miss Comfort’s return with a dish of cake 
stopped him. 

A little later they were outside again, walking 
silently away from the little white house with 
the brown shutters. When they w T ere at last out 
of sight of the front windows Polly turned eagerly 
toward Laurie. 

“"What were you going to say?” she demanded. 


128 


NID AND NOD 

9 

“You have thought of some plan, haven’t you?” 

Laurie hesitated, frowning thoughtfully. “Not 
much of a one,” he answered. “I guess it 
doesn’t amount to anything. Only—well, now 
look here, doesn’t it seem that there ought to be 
some place somewhere in this town that would 
do for her? It would n’t have to be much, would 
it ? Maybe just a sort of shed that could be fixed 
up and made comfortable? Or a nice stable that 
has rooms above it. You know some stables have 
quarters for the coachman or chauffeur of gar¬ 
dener. Maybe— ’ ’ 

“Why, I think it’s a perfectly stunning idea!” 
cried Polly. “No one thought of that!” 

“But she’d have to pay rent just the same, 
wouldn’t she?” asked Ned dubiously. “Some 
rent, anyhow? And she said—” 

“If we explained about her,” said Polly, “I’m 
sure no one would think of asking rent for just 
a stable attic—” Laurie’s chuckles interrupted. 
Well, whatever you call it. Loft, is n’t it? Any¬ 
how, perhaps just a—a nominal rent would be all 
they’d ask. 

“Why don’t we look right now and see if we 
can’t find something?” asked Mae excitedly*. 



THE AFTERNOON CALL 


129 


i ‘ Why don’t we?” cried Polly eagerly. 

‘ i Just what I was about to propose,” said 
Laurie a bit patronizingly, “when Ned butted in. 
Let’s start in and do the old burg systematically. 
Which way shall we go first V* 

Dusk had settled over Orstead when the four, 
footsore and weary, returned to the shop. Their 
quest had been fruitless. 


CHAPTER X 


THE COACH MAKES A PROMISE 

IJRNER,’’ said Coach Mulford, taking the 
vacant place on the bench beside Laurie 
and laying a hand on his knees, “Turner, they 
tell me you ’re grooming a dark horse.” 

“■Sir?” Laurie looked blank. Pinky’s smile 
told him that there was a joke somewhere about, 
but the phrase was a new one to him and he did n’t 
get the coach’s meaning. Mr. Mulford laughed. 

“They tell me that you ’re training a new 
pitcher for us,” he explained. “How about it?” 

Laurie reddened a bit. He wasn’t surprised 
that the coach knew about it, for his crazy boast 
and his daily work-outs with Ivewpie were known 
all over school and he was being joked unmerci¬ 
fully. Those morning sessions now were being 
attended by something of a gallery of interested 
spectators who were generous with suggestions 
and applause. But it occurred to him now that 
Coach Mulford must think him rather a fool. 

130 




THE COACH MAKES A PROMISE 131 


“I—well, I’m sort of helping Kewpie Proud- 
tree,” he answered haltingly. “He wants to 
learn to pitch, Mr. Mulford.” 

“I see.” The coach evidently didn’t disap¬ 
prove of the proceeding. Laurie gathered that 
from his tones. “I see. How’s he getting 
on?” 

Laurie shook his head. “Not very well,” he 
said frankly. 

“Sorry to hear that,” was the grave reply. 
“Still, there’s quite a while yet, and I dare say 
we ’ll manage to get along with Beedle and the 
others until your man’s ready.” Mr. Mulford 
slapped Laurie’s knee again and again laughed. 
Laurie laughed, too, but it wasn’t a whole¬ 
hearted laugh. Aware of the coach’s amused 
regard, he felt slightly resentful. After a mo¬ 
ment he said offhandedly: 

“I reckon he ’ll be ready for the Farview 
game, sir.” 

‘ ‘ Think so ? Fine! ’ ’ Mr. Mulford chuckled as 
he arose. “Well, let me know when he is ready, 
Turner.” 

“If I do will you give him a trial?” asked 
Laurie quickly. 



132 


NID AND NOD 


“What?” Mr. Mulford paused in his departure 
and looked back. “Give him a trial? Why, I 
don’t know, Turner,” he continued slowly, “but 
I might. ’ ’ 

“You—you wouldn’t care to make that a 
promise, would you, sir ? ” asked Laurie. Pinky’s 
round, red face smiled back as, after a perceptible 
pause, he nodded. 

“Yes, I ’ll make it a promise, Turner,” he 
agreed. “But, mind you, you must n’t ask me to 
waste my time. If your Great Unknown gets so 
he can really pitch, you let me know, and I ’ll 
look him over. But no duds, Turner! ’ ’ 

When, just before supper that evening, Laurie 
jubilantly repeated the conversation to Kewpie, 
Kewpie was all swelled up over that title of Great 
Unknown until Ned dryly remarked that most 
Great Unknowns never amounted to a hill of 
beans. Even that pessimistic utterance failed to 
dispel all of Kewpie’s pleasure, however. 

“That’s all right,” he said. “But some of 
them make good, don’t they? Well, here’s one 
of ’em. You ask Nod if I didn’t pitch some 
mighty nice curves this morning.” 

“Yeah,” agreed Laurie glumly, “they curved 


THE COACH MAKES A PROMISE 133 

all right, but you mustn’t think that a batter’s 
going to step out of his box to hit your balls, 
Kewpie. Batters aren’t that accommodating!” 

‘‘Gosh,” complained Kewpie, “you don’t give 
a fellow credit when he deserves it. If you think 
it’s any fun going through that stunt every 
morning—” 

“Who started it!” demanded Laurie. 

“Well, that’s all right, but—” 

“You ’ll get a nice long rest pretty soon,” said 
Ned soothingly. “Spring recess ’ll be along in 
less than two weeks, old son.” 

Kewpie made no reply for a moment. Then, 
“Well,” he began hesitantly, “I was thinking, 
Nid, that maybe I ought—oughtn’t—oughtn’t 
to go home at recess.” 

“Not go home! For goodness’ sake, why!” 

“Well, I’d lose a whole week, wouldn’t I! 
You and Laurie will be here, won’t you!” 

“Yes,” replied Ned, with a notable lack of 
enthusiasm. He and Laurie weren’t at all keen 
on remaining at school during the spring vacation, 
but it lasted only eight days, and as the journey to 
California occupied four, why, as Laurie put it, 
“they’d meet themselves coming back!” 


134 


NID AND NOD 


“Sure,” continued Kewpie. “Well, I ought to 
stay, too, I guess, and get a lot of practice in. 
Don’t you think so, Nod!” 

“Why, I don’t know.” Laurie looked startled. 
The prospect of seven long days with nothing to 
do hut to catch Kewpie’s drops and curves seemed 
decidedly lacking in attraction. There were mo¬ 
ments when Laurie’s determination wavered, and 
this was one of them. “I suppose it would be a 
mighty good idea, though,” he added listlessly. 
Ned’s mouth trembled in a smile. 

“Absolutely corking, Kewpie,” he declared. 
“Of course, you ought to stay. But what about 
your folks! Won’t they expect you home!” 

Kewpie nodded. “But I wrote yesterday and 
told them that maybe I wouldn’t be able to.” 

“I’d like to have seen that letter,” chuckled 
Ned. 

Kewpie grinned. “I just told them that I 
might have to stay here on account of baseball 
practice,” he explained innocently. 

“Of course,” agreed Ned gravely. “Well, 
you and Laurie can have a fine old time during 
recess. No recitations to bother you or any- 


THE COACH MAKES A PROMISE 135 


“0 Heath, where is thy sting!” murmured 
Laurie. 

“There is, though,” observed Ned, throwing 
his legs over the side of the Morris chair and 
eyeing Laurie quizzically, “ just one complication 
that occurs to me. I’ve heard talk of the base¬ 
ball team taking a Southern trip during recess. 
In that case, Laurie, I suppose you’d go along.” 

“Honest?” exclaimed Kewpie anxiously. “I 
didn’t know that!” 

“Nor any one else,” said Laurie, frowning. 
“Don’t you know yet when Ned’s joshing?” 

“Oh,” breathed Kewpie with immense relief. 
“I thought maybe—” 

“A swell chance I’d have of going with the 
team if it did go,” said Laurie. “I can’t play 
ball. I didn’t make a hit this afternoon. 
Couldn’t even see the old pill! Guess I’ll quit 
and go in for—-for soccer or rowing.” 

“Yes, rowing would be nice for you,” said Ned. 
“You ’re so big and strong! It’s a wonder to 
me they have n’t grabbed you for the boat before 
this!” 

“I ’ll bet I could row as well as you, you old 
bluffer!” 



136 


NID AND NOD 


“ There goes the bell!” yelped Kewpie. 
“Gosh, I didn’t know it was so late! S’long!” 
He collided with a chair and rushed out. 

A week passed, a week of ideal weather. The 
days were mildly warm and spring-like, and 
Polly’s possible snow didn’t develop. It show¬ 
ered occasionally, usually at night, and never 
enough to interfere with baseball practice. Ten¬ 
nis came into its own again, and Bob Starling 
was torn between the desire to remain at home 
and speed the making of the court behind the big 
house and the longing to go over to the snhool 
field and engage in combat with his ancient rivals. 
The crews were on the river daily. The education 
of Kewpie Proudtree as a baseball pitcher contin¬ 
ued. Laurie regained his batting eye in a meas¬ 
ure and talked no more of abandoning the dia¬ 
mond for the courts or the four-oared shells'.. 
Ned borrowed three golf-clubs from as many 
different acquaintances, bought a fourth, and 
accompanied Joe Stevenson, captain of last 
autumn’s 'football’s eleven, *around the links. 
Mr. Goupil, of Sioux City, Iowa, continued to 
emulate the Sphinx, and Miss Comfort was tem¬ 
porarily installed in one of the up-stairs rooms 


THE COACH MAKES A PROMISE 137 


at the Widow Deane’s, Polly sleeping in the room 
below. 

This arrangement had come about as the result 
of an eleventh-hour hitch in the program that was 
to have placed Miss Comfort in the poor-farm, 
down the river about two miles. It turned out 
that gaining admission to that institution was not 
such a simple matter as one might suppose. 
There was a great deal of red tape to be untied, 
and the untying of it occupied the energies of 
several of Orstead’s influential citizens. There 
was no doubt that eventually Miss Comfort would 
reach that haven, but meanwhile there ensued a 
delay that might last a week—a fortnight—even 
longer. Bob Starling’s father, instigated by his 
sister, who, since the death of Bob’s mother, had 
kept house for them, offered very generous as¬ 
sistance of money. 'Other individuals had sought 
to aid, as, too, had the congregation of the little 
church that Miss Comfort attended. But all such 
offers had been gratefully and firmly declined. 
Hospitality the little old lady would have ac¬ 
cepted, but charity in the form of money was, 
to her mind, something quite different and most 
repugnant. So, until the last knot in the mass 



138 


NID AND NOD 


of red tape had been untied, she was to remain 
as Mrs. Deane’s guest, an arrangement that 
brought as much pleasure to the Widow and Polly 
as it did to Miss Comfort. 

Even Polly had now accepted the inevitable. 
That first search for a modest habitation for the 
exile had been discouragingly unsuccessful, as 
had a second and more half-hearted one, and the 
four sympathetic young folks had finally agreed 
that the situation was beyond them. If Polly 
was a wee bit disappointed in Laurie because of 
his failure to find a solution of the problem—and 
I think she was—she doubtless recognized the in¬ 
justice of that emotion and concealed it. Laurie, 
once satisfied that everything had been done that 
could be done, philosophically banished the matter 
from his mind. Of course, he was just as sorry 
as ever for Miss Comfort, but that didn’t keep 
him from giving his full attention to matters of 
more personal interest, such as trying to beat 
Elk Thurston out for the position of first sub¬ 
stitute catcher, and striving, sometimes hopelessly, 
to make Kewpie into a pitcher. It is always so 
much easier to view another’s misfortunes with 
philosophy than one’s own. 


THE COACH MAKES A PKOMISE 139 

Hillman’s played two games during the week 
preceding the spring vacation and won one of 
them. The second, with Lincolndale High School, 
went to ten innings at 7 to 7 and was then called 
to allow the visitors to catch a train. Laurie, to 
his oddly mingled relief and disgust, saw action 
in neither of the contests. Elk Thurston took the 
place of Cas Bennett, the regular catcher, for the 
last two innings in the first encounter, hut in the 
second game Cas worked through to the end. 
Laurie had to acknowledge that Elk did pretty 
well that Wednesday as a catcher—better, prob¬ 
ably, than he could have done. Laurie’s modesty, 
though, did not keep him from telling himself 
that, while he might have performed less skill¬ 
fully behind the plate than Elk had, he was 
mighty sure he could have done better at the bat. 
The Orstead High School pitcher, the third since 
the beginning of the game, had nothing on the 
ball, was, in fact, scarcely more of a twirler than 
Kew^pie Proudtree, and yet Elk had swung in- 
gloriously at the first three offerings and had 
failed to so much as tickle one of them. “Bet 
you,” thought Laurie, “I’d have fouled one, 
/myhow! ’ ’ 


140 


NID AND NOD 


The Lincolndale game was on Friday, and the 
next day vacation began. By noon the school was 
pretty well depopulated, although there remained 
a scattering of unfortunate fellows who, like Ned 
and Laurie, lived too far from Orstead to allow 
of a home visit, or who could not afford the trip. 
Kewpie had reached a compromise with his 
parents. He was to go home and remain until 
Tuesday morning. Then he was to return to 
school and the demands of baseball. Ned was 
cynical after Kewpie’s departure. 

“Bet you we won’t see Kewpie again until a 
week from to-morrow,” he said to Laurie. 

Laurie shook his head. “I don’t know,” he 
replied,” but I have a hunch that he will be back 
Tuesday. Kewpie’s taking this pretty seriously, 
Ned, and he’s really trying mighty, hard. Some¬ 
times I think that if only he wasn’t so outra¬ 
geously like a dumpling he could do something at 
it!” 


CHAPTER XI 


* 


ON LITTLE CROW 

M AE FERRAND was not on hand the next 
afternoon when the twins and Bob Star¬ 
ling reached the Widow Deane ’s. Mae, Polly in¬ 
formed them, had gone to Poughkeepsie to spend 
Sunday with her grandmother. They decided to 
go down to the river for their walk this afternoon, 
and were soon descending Walnut Street. At the 
station they crossed the tracks, passed the freight- 
shed, and went southward beside the river, blue 
and sparkling in the spring sunlight. Then they 
had to return again to the tracks and cross a 
bridge that spanned a narrow inlet. The inlet 
connected the river with a shallow stretch of 
marsh and water known as the Basin which lay 
between the tracks and the big rock-quarry. The 
quarry was slowly but very surely removing the 
hill called Little Crow, and the face of the quarry 
was fully eighty feet in height from the boulder- 
strewn base to the tree-topped summit. It was 

141 


142 


NID AND NOD 


here that stone was being obtained for the work 
on which Mr. Starling’s company was engaged. 
Spur-tracks ran from the railroad to the base of 
the high cliff, about two hundred yards distant, 
and from the railroad again to the stone-walled 
dock wherein the quarry company loaded to 
lighters for water transportation. The Basin 
was a favorite place for skating in winter, and 
Ned reminded the others of several episodes of 
three months back. 

“Remember the time Elk Thurston tried to get 
ashore over there by the rushes?” asked Ned. 
“Every time he put his foot down the ice broke 
and let him through.” 

“And he got angrier and angrier,” laughed 
Polly, “and tried to hurry and—” 

“Fell flat,” chuckled Laurie. “They told him 
the ice would n’t hold him over there, but he al¬ 
ways knows a little more than any one else. And, 
look, there ’s the old Pequot Queen over there yet. 
It’s a wonder some one doesn’t take her away 
or break her up or something.” 

“Nobody knows who she belongs to, I heard,” 
said Bob. “The old ferry company went bust 
three or four years back, and the quarry company 


ON LITTLE CROW 143 

can ’t touch her because she is n’t theirs. I heard 
they had a bill for dockage as long as my arm 
against the Queen, though.” 

“Still, that’s the quarry dock she ’s in,” said 
Ned, “and she must be in the way there. I don’t 
see why they don’t push her out and let her float 
down the river.” 

“She’d be a menace to navigation,” replied 

% 

Bob knowingly. “The law would get them if 
they tried that.” 

“Sort of like a fellow driving an automobile 
into your front yard and leaving it there and 
going off,” laughed Laurie. “You couldn’t put 
it out into the street because that would be against 
traffic rules and you couldn’t take possession 
of it—” 

“You could send it to a garage, though,” said 
Bob. 

“Yes, and pay the garage bills!” 

“The quarry folks could see that it got on fire 
accidently,” said Ned. 

“It would only burn to the water-edge. The 
hull would be just as much in the way as the 
whole thing,”' objected Bob. 

“I hope they ’ll let it stay just where it is,” 


144 


NID AND NOD 


said Polly. “I’m sure it comes in very handy 
* when we come here skating. Remember that per¬ 
fectly ferocious day just after Christmas, Laurie, 
when we were all nearly frozen and you made 
a tire in the—the fireplace—” 

‘ i Fireplace! ’ 9 echoed Ned. “ That ’s corking! ’ ’ 
4 ‘Well, the—the—why, I don't see why it is n’t 
a fireplace, Smarty. It’s the place you build the 
fire, is n’t it?” 

“Boiler,” said Bob. 

“Well, anyway, it just about saved my feet 
from freezing right off,” declared Polly. “And 
we had a lot of fun on the boat, and I hope no 
one will do anything to it at all!” 

“Guess you needn’t worry,” said Laurie. 
“Looks as if she’d stay right here and rot to 
pieces. Guess she’s got a good start already.” 

Their homeward way led them through the 
woods and around the slope of Little Crow Hill, 
at first by an old wood-road and then by devious 
trails through the now leafless forest. That was 
the nearer way, but there was a longer, more 
arduous, and far more attractive route that took 
them to the summit of Little Crow and laid the 
world at their feet; for from above the face of the 


ON LITTLE CROW 


145 


quarry tliey could look for miles and miles up and 
down the broad river and across it and westward 
to the rising foot-hills of the mountains. Since 
to-day was as clear as a whistle and the air held 
that crisp quality that makes exertion a pleasure, 
Bob's suggestion that they go up to the top of 
the hill was accepted with enthusiasm by Ned and 
Laurie. Polly, glancing solicitously at her dress, 
hesitated. But she was, in the boys' parlance, 
“a good sport," and she didn't want to spoil 
their fun. So after a brief moment she, too, 
agreed, although with less enthusiasm, and they 
turned northward from the wood-road and 
ascended, for a time almost parallel to the rail¬ 
road, a narrow path where the branches clutched 
mischievously at Polly's skirt and proved that 
she had had cause for indecision. 

Laurie led, with Polly next. For a while the 
going was not hard, but then outcropping boulders 
set the path to twisting and winding, and soon 
they were helping themselves upward by branches 
and setting their feet carefully in the moist 
tangles of root and moss. It was half-way up 
a more than usually severe stretch, when every 
muscle was tense, that Laurie suddenly stopped 


146 ? 


NID AND NOD 


short, turned about and exclaimed “Say!” in such 
an unexpected and explosive burst of sound that 
Polly, thrown from her balance by her attempt 
to avoid collision with Laurie, and startled out 
of her wits, fell back against Ned. Only Bob’s 
prompt support from the rear saved the situation. 
The three glared at the offender in outrage. 

“Say,” exclaimed Ned, “what do you want to 
do? Break all our necks? What ’s the matter 
with you, anyway, stopping like that and shouting 
like a crazy man?” 

Laurie stared back for an instant as though he 
neither saw Ned nor heard him. Then his gaze 
fell and he turned away. “Sorry,” he muttered. 

“But—but what was it?” gasped Polly. “Did 
you see a snake or—or something?” 

Laurie shook his head and began to climb again. 
“I just thought of something,” he said. 

“Well, for the love of lime-drops!” scolded his 
brother. “Don’t think any more until we get to 
the top, you poor prune!” 

They went on, but it was n’t difficult to perceive 
that Laurie wasn’t obeying Ned’s injunction. 
If he had been he wouldn’t have stumbled over 
everything in his course and he wouldn’t have 


ON LITTLE CROW 


147 


missed the path above the big fern-clad rock near 
the summit and gone wandering off into the brush 
all by himself until called back by the others. 
Ned observed him pityingly as he sheepishly re¬ 
joined them. 

“We ’ll have to hold you when we get to the 
top,” said Ned crushingly. “If we don’t you ’ll 
probably walk right over the edge! What in the 
world’s got into you?” 

“Nothing,” answered Laurie, an absent ex¬ 
pression possessing his features again. “What 
are you stopping here for?” 

“Well, there is something,” said Ned accus¬ 
ingly,” and I know what it is. You’ve got some 
crazy idea in your bean.” He turned to Polly. 
“He’s always like that when he thinks he’s 
discovered something big, like perpetual motion 
or—or how to make a million dollars. We ’ll 
have to watch him until he recovers, or he will do 
himself harm. You go first, Bob, and I ’ll keep 
an eye on him.” 

The rest of the climb was accomplished without 
further incident, and they at last emerged in a 
small cleared space at the top of the hill. I don’t 
mean cleared in the sense of free from rubbish, 


148 


NID AND NOD 



for occasional picnic-parties bad offended against 
nature as they have a way of doing, and the scanty 
grass was littered with paper and empty cracker- 
boxes and an occasional bottle or tin. Ned 
viewed the scene disgustedly. 

“Funny what human hogs some folks are,” he 
growled, kicking an empty olive-bottle over the 
edge of the cliff. He paused until, after an ap¬ 
preciable interval, the distant tinkling sound of 
breaking glass met his ears. “It ’s enough to 
make you sick. Folks who can’t stand a speck 
of dust on their automobile will get out and eat 
their lunch and leave the place looking like a 
pigsty. Ought to be brought back and made to 
eat every scrap of the mess they leave behind 
them. ’ ’ 

“Right-o,” agreed Bob, “but I don’t believe 
these folks were automobilists, Ned. It’s n long 
way up here from the road.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” said Ned, “whether they 
came in a car or walked; they ’re hogs just the 
same.” 

“Well, let’s sit down and get our breaths,” 
said Polly, suiting action to words. “That’s a 


v 



ON LITTLE CROW 


149 


perfectly frightful climb, isn’t it. I don’t think 
I tore my dress, though.” She was making in¬ 
spection and looked vastly relieved as no damage 
showed. 

“Better luck going down,” said Boh cheerfully, 
and Polly made a face at him as he sprawled 
beside Ned. Laurie had not joined them on the 
grass, but instead was lounging toward the edge 
of the clift, his hands in his pockets. 

“Laurie, please don’t go so close,” called Polly 
from a dozen feet away. “It makes me feel sort 
of squirmy.” 

Perhaps Laurie did n’t hear her. He was very 
near the edge now, close by a pine that leaned 
outward at an angle, its roots clinging to the thin 
crust of earth that hid the rock beneath. Ned 
glanced toward him, and an expression of dis¬ 
approval came to his face. 

“He thinks he’s smart,” he said contemp¬ 
tuously. “He’s always liked to walk on roofs 
and act silly goat that way.” He raised his 
voice. “Laurie!” 

Laurie gave a start. “Yes'?” he answered. 
Then—well, then everything happened all at once 


150 


NID AND NOD 


and with incredible speed. They saw Laurie 
grasp suddenly at the leaning tree, saw him miss 
it, saw one foot disappear over the edge in a tiny 
cloud of brown dust, and then, in almost the same 
instant, Laurie just wasn’t therel 


CHAPTER XH 


ON THE QUAEKY SHELF 

T HERE was an instant of incredulous horror 
on the cliff top. Then Polly’s smothered 
gasp broke the silence, and the two boys were on 
their feet. Short of the edge, Ned faltered for a 
moment, sick and trembling, and it was Bob who 
crouched on hands and knees and looked first 
down the steeply sloping face of rock. Beside 
him the earth was still trickling where Laurie’s 
unwary foot had broken off an overhanging 
crust. 

For a second Bob’s gaze, fearfully searching 
the rocky debris far below, saw nothing. Then 
came a sharp cry of relief from Ned, who had 
now dropped beside him, and at the same moment 
Bob’s gaze, retraveling the face of rock, fell on 
Laurie. 

About thirty feet below them he was, his feet 
set on a shelf scarcely four inches wide, his right 
hand stretched high and its fingers hooked over 

151 


152 


NID AND NOD 


a still narrower ledge, his left hand flung outward, 
its palm pressed against the smooth surface. His 
head leaned against the raised shoulder, his fore¬ 
head close to the rock. Viewed from below the 
quarry face looked perpendicular, as, indeed, it 
was farther around where the height was less, 
but here there was a perceptible slope, slight but 
sufficient to have saved Laurie from a headlong 
plunge to the strewn fragments at the base. His 
cap was gone and the miniature landslide had 
powdered his head and shoulders with red dust. 

i i Laurie! ’’ called Ned tremulously. 

For a space there was no answer. Then 
Laurie’s voice reached them, weak and muffled. 
“ Yeah?” 

He didn’t raise his face. 

“Are you hurt?” asked Bob anxiously. 

“No, not—yet.” He stopped and then added, 
“Scraped a bit.” 

“Can you hold on until we—we—” Ned 
stopped because he could n’t think just then what 
it was they could do. 

“I reckon so,” answered Laurie. “Is 
there . . . anything near my left hand ... I 
can reach, Ned?” 



153 


ON THE QUARRY SHELF 

“No. Wait. Yes, there’s a sort of edge about 
six inches higher. Can you reach it? Further 
up. Nearer you now. That’s it!” Laurie’s 
questing fingers had found the spot. It wasn’t 
much of a hold, only a bit of rough rock project¬ 
ing an inch or so from the smooth face. Ned was 
suddenly aware that Polly was crouched beside 
him, crying nervously. He tried hard to think 
clearly. After a moment he said: “Laurie, 
we ’re going for a rope. It will take some time, 
but—but it’s the only thing I can think of. Can 
you hold on until we get back?” 

“I ’ll stick,” was the grim answer. His voice 
was clearer now and steadier. “How far down 
am I?” 

“About thirty feet.” Ned stumbled to his feet. 
“No use both of us going, Bob,” he said hurriedly. 
“You stay. And Polly. I guess I can find rope 
at the quarry.” He was off then, running down 
the path. Bob dropped to his knees again be¬ 
side Polly. Polly was speaking, trying to make 
her voice steady and confident. 

“It won’t be long, Laurie,” she called. “Be—- 
be brave and—” 

“Hello, Polly,” answered Laurie from below, 


154 NID AND NOD 

a faint reminder of his old insouciance in his 
voice. ‘ 1 Nice fix, eh?” 

“Yes, but don’t worry, and—yon’d better not 
talk.’ ’ 

“Guess I’d rather,” answered Laurie. “Sort 
of keeps me from thinking about—things.” 
After a moment he continued. “Position’s sort 
of cramped, Polly. Bob there, or did he go, too?” 

“No, I’m here,” answered Bob. “I’ve been 
thinking—” 

“Don’t do it,” said Laurie. “I tried it, and 
now look at me! Wish my legs would n’t tremble. 
How wide’s the thing I’m standing on, Bob?” 

“Three inches. Maybe four. What I was—” 

“Rock?” 

“Yes, a sort of narrow ledge across the face; 
a fault, as they call it. It runs downward at your 
left almost to the bottom, I’d say. Listen, Nod. 
Suppose I got a long pole and lowered one end 
to you and held the other. Would that be easier 
for you to hold on to?” 

Laurie considered a moment. “I reckon so,” 
he answered. “My right arm’s just about dis¬ 
located. Try it, will you, Bob?” 

Bob arose and disappeared into the woods. 


ON THE QUARRY SHELF 155 

“Wish I could stand on my heels for a while,” 
said Laurie. “My toes are trying to dance. 
Where’s Ned gone for the rope?” 

“To the quarry, he said,” Polly replied. “If 
Bob and I made a sort of rope of our clothes, 
Laurie, wouldn’t it be better than a pole?” 

“Don’t believe so. I wouldn’t feel awfully 
easy in my mind if I trusted to that sort of rope. 
Anyway, I don’t intend to have you make rags 
of your new dress!” 

“Oh, Laurie, as if a new dress mattered!'” 
exclaimed Polly. “I do wish it wasn’t so thin, 
though. Here comes Bob.” 

Bob brought the dead trunk of a young black 
birch about five inches thick at the butt where, 
by hacking with his knife and twisting, he had 
managed to sever it. Now he slashed the larger 
branches away. “Good thing it’s dried out,” he 
said to Polly. “If it wasn’t it would be too 
heavy to hold. Hope it’s long enough!” 

“Oh, Bob, I don’t believe it is,” said Polly 
anxiously. 

“If it isn’t I can find one that is.” 

But it was. When Bob had lowered the smaller 
end down the cliff at Laurie’s right and Laurie 


156 


NID AND NOD 


had very carefully and rather fearfully un¬ 
clasped his numb fingers from their rocky hold 
and clutched them about the tree there remained 
a few inches of the butt end above the level of 
the ground. Taking a firm hold with both hands 
at arm’s length as he lay facedown, Bob smiled 
his satisfaction. 

“She ’ll hold you, Nod, even if the shelf you ’re 
standing on gives way! Polly can sit on my legs 
if she has to, and after that I’m good for all 
day.” 

“Gee, that’s a lot better,” said Laurie. 
“Wow, that arm was almost out at the socket! 
Can you see this fault, as you call it from where 
you are?” 

“Yes.” 

“Look it over, will you? Does it go right to 
the bottom?” 

“N-no, not quite, I guess. I can’t just see the 
end of it. There’s a three-cornered hunk of 
ledge sticking out down there. I guess it stops 
about a dozen feet from the bottom, Nod.” 

“All right. Tell you what I’m figuring on. 
You check me up, you two. Suppose I have that 
rope that Ned’s gone for. It wouldn’t be any 


157 


ON THE QUARRY SHELF 

good for me to try and climb it, for I’m aching all 
over and I just would n’t have the strength. If I 
tied it around me you three couldn’t pull me up 
over that edge. Of course if the rope’s long 
enough you fellows can lower me down, or I could 
put a turn of the rope around me and get down 
myself, I reckon. How about that?” 

“You’d get awfully scraped up, I’m afraid,” 
said Bob. “I’m pretty sure the three of us can 
pull you up, Nod.” 

“I don’t believe you could. It would be risky, 
anyway. Maybe, though, I can climb up some- 
how. ’ ’ 

“Perhaps,” offered Polly, “Ned will bring 
some one back with him to help.” 

6 ‘ Let’s hope so, ’ ’ said Laurie. “ If he does n’t, 
the next best thing is a rope long enough to reach 
to the bottom. My idea was this, Bob.” He 
paused long enough to shift one foot gingerly and 
relieve his jumping nerves. “I thought I could 
tie the end of the rope under my shoulders and 
work along this ledge that I’m standing on until 
I got where I could jump or drop or something.” 

“We could lower you the rest of the way if the 
rope lasted.” 


158 


NID AND NOD 


“Yes, of .course. Question is—” Laurie’s 
words were coming slower now, with pauses be¬ 
tween—“question is, can you folks follow along 
the edge and hold your end of the rope?” 

Bob turned his head and studied. After a 
minute he said: “Yes, I’m sure we can. The 
trees are close to the edge in places, but we could 
manage to pass the rope around them. We ’ll 
see to that. Trouble is, Nod, there’s a place 
about ten or twelve yards from where you are 
where the blamed shelf sort of peters out for a 
ways, nearly five feet, I’d say.” 

“That so?” Laurie deliberated. “Well, if you 
fellows took a turn around a tree with your end 
of the rope I reckon I could make it, eh?” 

“Yes, I think you could,” Bob agreed. “Sure, 
you could!” 

“All right. Guess that’s . . . the best plan,” 
said Laurie tiredly. “How long’s Ned . . . 
been gone?” 

“Oh, he must be back in a minute!” cried Polly. 
“He’s been gone a long, long time.” 

“Seen him down there . . . yet?” 

“He probably went to the office-building near 
the dock,” answered Bob. “You can’t see that 


ON THE QUARRY SHELF 159 

from here. Keep the old dander up, Nod.” 

“I know,” agreed Laurie, “only ... I ain’t 
so well in my dander! Ought to see ... a 
doctor—” 

“He’s coming!” cried Polly. “I hear him!” 

Even as she spoke joyfully, Ned came into 
sight, panting, perspiring, flushed, a coil of rope 
over a shoulder. He fairly staggered up the last 
of the ascent and across the small clearing, his 
eyes questioning Polly’s anxiously. 

“He’s all right,” cried Polly. Ned exhaled a 
deep breath of relief and struggled to disencum¬ 
ber himself of the rope. The girl sprang to his 
aid. 

“I broke a window in the shed down there,” 
panted Ned. “This was all I could find, but it’s 
good and strong. ’ ’ He began with trembling fin¬ 
gers to fashion a noose. 

“Oh, Ned,” faltered Polly, “it’s so short?” 

“How long?” called Bob. 

“Forty feet,” replied Ned. “Maybe more. 
It’s more than long enough!” 

Polly explained hurriedly, and Ned’s face fell 
as he stared despairingly at the cliff’s edge. 
Then his shoulders went back, “We ’ll get him 


160 


NID AND NOD 


up,” he said grimly. “We ’ll get him up or I ’ll 
go down with him!” He went on bunglingly 
with the noose. Bob and Laurie were talking 
beyond the edge. 

“Rope’s too short for your scheme,” Bob said 
as cheerfully as he could. “Only about forty 
of fifty feet, Nod.” 

“Wouldn’t do, eh?” Laurie asked after a mo¬ 
ment’s silence. 

“No, too short by thirty feet, I guess. Twenty, 
anyway. We ’ll have to pull you up, old chap. 
We ’ll manage it.” 

Ned was peering down now. “I’ve made a 
slip-noose, Laurie. We ’ll lower it down, and 
you can get one arm through and then the other. ’ ’ 

“Wait a bit,” said Bob. “You’d better take 
hold of that ledge again with your right hand first, 
Nod. These branches will be in the way. Can 
you reach it? Higher yet. There you are! All 
right.” Bob pulled up the birch-tree, edged his 
body back, rolled over, and took several deep 
breaths. Then he rubbed his neck vigorously and 
got to his knees. “Polly,” he directed, “you 
take hold of the end of the rope and, for the love 
of Mike, don’t let go of it! Lower away now, 


ON THE QUARRY SHELF 161 

Nid. Coming down, old chap. Left arm first. 
Straighten it up. All right. Get your hold 
again. Now the other. Hold the rope closer in, 
Nid. Right-o! Fine! Tighten up easy, Nid. 
How ’s that, down there ?” 

“All right, thanks. Ned, don’t start anything 
until you’ve rested a hit. I can hear you puffing 
down here. I’m fine now and can spend the day 
here.” 

Ned sank down and relaxed, breathing heavily 
and mopping his face. “Best way to do,” said 
Bob to him, “will be to take a turn of rope around 
a tree and let Polly take up the slack as we haul. 
It ’ll be a hard tug, with the rope binding over 
the edge, but I guess we can do it.” Ned nodded, 
took a deep breath, and stood up, 

“Let’s go,” he said shortly. 


CHAPTER XIII 

THE PEQTJOT QUEEN 

HE first pull on the rope resulted only in 
sawing through the turf and earth at the 
of the cliff until the rock was reached. The 
tug brought a few inches more at the cost 
of terrific effort, for the rope must pass at almost 
right angles over the raw edge of the rock. 
Laurie, his hands clasping the rope above his 
head to lessen the strain across his chest, was 
showered with earth. Another heave, and Ned 
and Bob went back a scant foot, Polly, her weight 
on the rope, tightening the slack around the tree. 
Once more the two boys dug their heels into the 
ground and strained. This time there was no 
result. They tried again. It was as though they 
w T ere pulling at the cliff itself. The rope tautened 
under their efforts but yielded not an inch. 

4 ‘Must be . . . caught!” gasped Bob. 

Ned, weak from that hurried climb up the hill, 
podded, and closed bis eyes dizzily. The mo- 

162 


T 

edge 

next 


THE PEQUOT QUEEN 163 

ment’s silence was broken by a hail from Laurie. 

“No good, you fellows! The rope’s worked 
into a crevice of the rock and is jammed there. 
I ’ll have to climb it myself. 'Make your end fast 
around something and stand by to give me a 
hand—if I make it!” 

Bob silently questioned Ned, and the latter 
nodded again. “Let him try,” he said huskily. 
“If he can’t—” 

“Oh, wait, wait!” cried Polly. “We ’re— 
we ’re perfect idiots! He does n’t have to do that, 
Ned! He can walk along that ledge, and we can 
hold the rope—” 

“But it is n’t long enough,” Bob expostulated. 

“Not down,” said Polly impatiently; “up!” 

“Up? By Jove, that’s so! See what she 
means, Ned? Here, let’s get this tied to the 
tree!” A moment later Bob was at the edge, 
his eager gaze following the narrow ledge as 
it ascended at Laurie’s right. Scarcely twenty 
feet beyond, it ended at a perpendicular fissure 
hardly four feet below the top. Gleefully he 
made known the discovery to Laurie, and the 
latter, stretched like a trussed fowl against the 
rock, his toes still just touching the shelf, grunted. 



164 


NID AND NOD 


“Never thought of that,” he said disgustedly. 
He stretched his head back until he could see the 
shelf. Then, “It’s a cinch,’’ he affirmed. 
“You ’ll have to get the rope free first, though, 
and ease up on it until I can get my feet back 
on the ledge. Can you do it?” 

“Have to,” answered the other cheerfully. 
Cautiously he and Ned untied the rope from 
about the tree, gave it some three inches of slack, 
retied it, and set to work at the edge of the cliff. 
Or, rather, Bob worked, for Ned’s hands trembled 
so that he couldn’t. The rope was fast in a 
jagged-edged notch of the rock, and Bob’s only 
implement, his pocket-knife, was somewhat in¬ 
adequate. But he made it do. Using the handle 
like a tiny hammer, he chipped and chipped until 
finally the rope began to slip downward and 
Laurie’s weight rested again on the ledge. The 
end about the tree was unfastened; the rope was 
lifted from the channel it had dug through the 
overlying soil and carried a yard to the left. 
Then, with Ned and Bob and Polly holding it, 
their heels dug firmly into the sod, Laurie began 
his journey. 

It was slow work at first, for his nerves and 


THE PEQUOT QUEEN 165 

muscles responded ill to the demands of his brain, 
and delays came when those above cautiously 
moved their position, taking new holds on the 
slowly shortening rope. Had Laurie been fresh 
for the task he would have swarmed up there 
in no time at all. As it was, it took a good ten 
minutes to reach the end of his journey; and, 
even so, he did not proceed to the limit of his 
narrow foot-path but, once his hands could reach 
the edge, squirmed his way over, Bob and Ned 
pulling and tugging. 

Once there, he flopped over on his back in the 
tangle of brush and stretched legs and arms re- 
lievedly. In the little silence that ensued Bob 
removed the rope from Laurie and coiled it with 
unnecessary exactitude. Then Laurie took a 
long, deep breath, sat up, and said “ Thanks!” 

That relaxed the general tension. Bob laughed 
queerly, Ned grinned in a twisted way, and Polly 
dabbed at her eyes with a diminutive handker¬ 
chief. 

‘‘Welcome,’’ said Bob dryly. Then all four 
began to laugh and talk at the same time. After 
a moment of that Bob laid a hand on Laurie’s 
collar, “Let’s get out of this,” he said. Laurie 


166 


NID AND NOD 


got to his feet somewhat shakily, and they fought 
their way back to the little clearing. “Now,” 
said Bob, “we ’ll just sit down and look at that 
view we came up here to see and get rested for 
a quarter of an hour. I don’t know how Laurie 
feels, but I’m all in!” 

“I ’ll bet you are,’’ responded Laurie. ‘ 1 Guess 
I had the easiest part of it.” 

“You look it,” answered Bob sarcastically. 
Laurie’s face was brown with dirt, his knuckles 
were bleeding, there was a cut on his chin, and 
his clothes were torn until they looked fit only 
for the ragman. Ned, who had been scowling 
blackly for the last minute or two, broke into 
sudden speech. 

“Of all the crazy lunatics, Laurie,” he began 
fiercely. 

“Oh, please, Ned!” cried Polly. “He didn’t 
mean to do it!” 

“Let him say it,” said Laurie humbly. “I 
deserve it, and it ’ll do him good.” 

But Ned’s eloquence had fled him. He said 
“Humph!” and turned his head away and stared 
hard at the wide expanse of scenery spread be¬ 
fore him. The others pretended not to know that 


167 


THE PEQUOT QUEEN 

there were tears in Iris eyes, and Bob said hastily: 
4 ‘Well, all ’s swell that ends swell! How did it 
happen, anyway, Nod?” 

“Oh, I was—was thinking about something and 
did n’t realize I was so close to the edge, I guess. 
Then Ned called to me and I turned around quick 
and one foot began to go. I tried to catch hold 
of that tree there and missed it. Next thing I 
knew r I was sliding down the rock. I guess that 
trying to catch hold of the tree saved me, because 
it threw me forward and, instead of falling out¬ 
ward, I went sliding down with my face scraping 
against the rock. Somehow, just by luck, I got 
hold of a root for a second. It broke off, but it 
helped, I guess, for I stopped with my feet on 
that ledge and my right hand holding on to some¬ 
thing above me. I suppose I made sort of a fuss 
about it down there,” he concluded apologetically, 
“but you don’t know how quivery your nerves 
get, Bob. Seemed like my legs wanted to dance 
all the time!” 

11 Son, you certainly had a narrow squeak of it, ’ ’ 
said Bob solemnly. “Gee, when I saw you go 
over—” 

“Oh, it was perfectly horrible,” shuddered 


168 NID AND NOD 

Polly. “And then afterward, while Ned was 
gone—” 

“There’s a busted window down there that 
some one’s got to settle for,” growled Ned. 

“Believe me, old scout,” replied Laurie feel¬ 
ingly, “I’m willing to settle for a hundred busted 
windows! Of course, I don’t mean that it 
wouldn’t have been a heap more considerate of 
you to have slipped the catch with your knife and 
saved me the expense.” 

Ned faced them again then, glaring at his 
brother. “You poor fish!” he said contemp¬ 
tuously. 

“That’s me,” agreed Laurie smilingly. 
“Pulled up with a line!” 

Polly and Bob laughed, the former a trifle hys¬ 
terically. Then Ned’s mouth twitched itself into 
a grin. “Laurie, you ’re an awful fool,” he said 
affectionately. 

“Ouess you ’re right, Neddie.” He climbed 
to his feet, stamped them experimentally, seemed 
to approve of the result, and added, “Well, unless 
some one else is going to fall over, say we go 
home. ’ ’ 


THE PEQUOT QUEEN 169 

“I’m ready,’’ agreed Bob. “How about the 
rope ? Ought n ’t we— ’ ’ 

“In payment for my share in the recent—er— 
episode,” said Laurie, “I ’ll look after it. 
Where’d you get it, Ned?” 

“Why don’t we all go?” asked Polly. “It 
is n’t much farther that way. ’ ’ 

“Right-o,” agreed Bob. “Besides, who knows 
what Laurie would do next if we let him go 
alone ¥ ’ ’ 

So they set off down the hill again, every one 
by now extremely merry and light-hearted in the 
reaction. They dropped the rope through the 
window in the shed adjoining the office of the 
quarry company and retraced their steps to the 
village and up Walnut Street and so, finally, just 
as dusk began to settle down, reached the little 
shop. There it was Polly who voiced the thought 
that had been in the minds of the rest for some 
time. 

“Perhaps,” said Polly, “it would be better if 
w^e didn’t say anything about what happened.” 

“Polly,” declared Laurie relievedly—and 
slangily, “you spoke a mouthful!” 



170 


NID AND NOD 


“Yes,” agreed Ned. “No use worrying folks 
about a thing when it’s all over.” 

“Of course not,” chimed in Bob. “Guess it 
won’t happen again, anyway.” 

“Not with me in the role of happenee,” said 
Laurie with conviction. 

“If it ever does,” said Ned, “you ’ll hang over 
the cliff until you dry up and blow away for all 
of me, you poor simp!” 

But when they had said good night to Bob 
Ned’s tune was different. “Old-timer,” he said 
after a silence, “you sure had me scared.” 

‘ 4 1 know, ’ ’ said Laurie soberly. ‘ ‘ Sorry, Ned. ” 

“Uh-huh. ’S all right.” Ned slipped his arm 
in Laurie’s. “Wish you’d cut out that sort of 
thing, though. Always gives me heart-failure. 
It’s risky business, anyway.” 

“Right,” agreed Laurie. After a minute, as 
they passed through the gate, he added, “No 
more I ’ll risk my neck on dizzy height.” 

“Well said, for if you do you ’ve me to fight!” 

That evening the twins were content to lounge 
in easy-chairs in the recreation-room and read, 
refusing challenges to ping-pong, chess, and va¬ 
rious other engagements requiring exertion of 


THE PEQUOT QUEEN 171 

mind or body. They went early to bed and, al¬ 
though Laurie roused once to hear Ned in the 
throes of nightmare and had to quiet him before 
returning to his own dreamless slumber, awoke 
in the morning their normal selves again. 

After breakfast that morning Laurie announced 
to Ned that he was going to walk down and ex¬ 
plain the broken window, and settle for it if 
settlement was demanded. Ned said, “All right, 
come along.” But Laurie persuaded the other 
that his presence during the conference with the 
quarry company officials was not only unneces¬ 
sary but inadvisable. “You see,” he elaborated, 
“it’s going to require tact, old son, and Tact, 
as you know, is my middle name. Now, if I took 
you along you ’d be sure to say something to 
queer the whole show and I’d have to fork over 
a dollar, maybe. No, better leave this to me, 
Ned.” 

“Must say you fancy yourself a bit this morn¬ 
ing,” scoffed Ned. “All right, though. Come 
over to Bob’s when you get back. I told him I’d 
go around there and look at the court.” 

Laurie saved his dollar by narrating a moving 
tale of his fall from the cliff to the occupants 


172 


NID AND NOD 


of the small office down by the river. One weaz¬ 
ened little man who held a pen in his mouth and 
talked through it or around it—Laurie could n’t 
decide which—reminded the visitor that if he had 
not trespassed on quarry company property he 
would n ’t have got in trouble. But it was plain 
that this view was not popular with the other 
members of the force present, and Laurie was 
permitted to depart with his last week’s allowance 
intact. 

From the office he made his way across toward 
the stone-walled dock where lay the Pequot Queen . 
Once he paused, turned, and sent his gaze to the 
great mass of rock that arose precipitately from 
beyond the littered floor of the quarry. He 
couldn’t see the tiny ledge that had saved his 
life yesterday, but there, looking very small from 
down here, was the leaning tree, and he meas¬ 
ured the distance to the rock-strewn ground be¬ 
neath and shuddered. He was still gazing when 
there was a dull concussion and a cloud of gray 
dust, and a great pile of rock slid down the face. 
The little locomotive tooted and came rocking 
toward the railway, dragging a flat-car loaded 
with two great squares of rock. On the farther 


THE PEQUOT QUEEN 173 

side of the small dock a lighter was being loaded, 
a big boom swinging from cars to deck to the 
music of a puffing engine and the shrill piping 
of a whistle. Laurie continued his way to the 
Pequot Queen . 

A few years before the boat had been used in 
the ferry service between Orstead and Hamlin, 
across the river. Then the business failed to 
show a profit, the company was dissolved, and 
the Pequot Queen was pushed into the quarry 
company’s dock—without permission, if rumor 
was to be credited—and left to rot. She was 
about fifty feet long and very broad of beam. 
The stern was occupied by a cabin with many 
windows, a few of which were still unbroken. 
Amidships, if one may apply the term to a launch, 
was a small engine-room in which a rusted up¬ 
right engine still stood amid a litter of coal-dust. 
A door led to a smaller compartment, the wheel- 
house. Between that and the bow was a space 
for luggage and freight. The Pequot Queen had 
not carried vehicles. 

At one time the boat had doubtless shone re¬ 
splendent in white paint and gold-leaf. Now 
there were few traces of either remaining. The 


174 


NIB AND NOB 


name was still legible on each side of the bow, 
however, in faded black. Through the roof a 
rusty smoke-stack pushed its way to lean peril¬ 
ously to starboard. Atop the cabin, reached by 
a narrow companion, benches inside a pipe-railing 
had afforded accommodation for passengers 
in tine weather. The boat was secured fore and 
aft with frayed hawsers, and her rail lay close 
to the wall. Laurie viewed her speculatively 
from stem to stern and then stepped aboard. 
Had there been any one about to observe him 
they might have thought that here was a possible 
purchaser, for he went over the boat completely 
and exhaustively, giving, however, most of his 
time to the cabin. In the end he went ashore and 
once more viewed the derelict in frowning spec¬ 
ulation. There was no doubt that the Pequot 
Queen had outlived her use as a water-craft. She 
still floated and would probably continue to float 
for many years yet, but old age had claimed her, 
as rotting timbers and yawning seams showed. 
Yet Laurie, whether or not he was a prospective 
purchaser, turned away at last with an expression 
of thoughtful satisfaction on his countenance. 

Back by the railroad, he stopped and viewed 


THE PEQUOT QUEEN 175 

his surroundings intently. On one side lay the 
bridge, with the Basin beyond and to the left, 
and the big quarry to his right. On the other 
side was the company office and shed, the dock 
and pier, the latter piled high with roughly- 
squared blocks of stone. Toward town the 
river’s margin was unoccupied for a space, and 
then came the coal-wharves and the lumber com* 
pany’s frontage. It was a noisy and dust-laden 
spot in which the Pequot Queen had been left to 
pass her declining years, and Laurie shook his 
head slowly as though the realization of the fact 
displeased him. Finally he crossed the bridge 
again, hurrying a little in order not to compete 
for passage with a slow-moving freight from the 
north, and continued along the river-front until 
he had passed the station and the warehouses 
across the track and was again allowed a view 
of the stream unimpeded by buildings. Here 
there was no wall along the river, but now and 
then the remains of an ancient wooden bulkhead 
still stood between the dusty road and the lapping 
water. Here and there, too, a rotted hulk lay 
careened or showed naked ribs above the surface 
further out. Across the road hardly more than 


176 


NID AND NOD 


a lane now, a few dejected but respectable dwell¬ 
ings stood behind their tiny front yards. Behind 
them the hill sloped upward less abruptly than 
farther back and was thickly clustered with un¬ 
pretentious houses wherein the industrious for¬ 
eign-bom citizens of Orstead lived. Compared 
to the vicinity of the quarry, however, this section 
of town was clean and quiet. There were trees 
here, and later on there would be grass along the 
unfrequented road and flowers in the little gar¬ 
dens. Westward lay the sunlit river and the 
wooded shore beyond. Laurie nodded approv¬ 
ingly more than once as he dawdled along, pay¬ 
ing, as it appeared, special attention to the mar¬ 
gin of the stream. Finally, more than an hour 
after he had left school, he retraced his steps as 
far as Ash Street and turned uphill. 

Ash Street was two blocks north of Walnut 
and, having an easier grade to climb, was less 
devious in its journey. It brought Laurie at 
length to Summit Street a short block from the 
little white house from which Miss Comfort had 
lately removed. As he passed it Laurie observed 
that so far no vandal hand had been laid on it. 
The brown shutters were closed at the down- 


177 


THE PEQUOT QUEEN 

stairs windows, and the bnds on the lilac-bushes 
were swelling fast. Somehow these two facts, 
apparently unrelated, combined to bring a little 
pang of sadness to the observer. He went on, 
with only a glance down Pine Street to the blue 
shop, and entered the side gate of the Coventry 
place. 


CHAPTER XIV 


A PERFECTLY GORGEOUS IDEA 


N ED and Bob vere watching Thomas, the 
man-of-all-work, rolling the cinder surface 
of the new tennis-court. Theirs was a pleasant 
occupation for such a morning, and Laurie joined 
them where they sat on a pile of posts and boards 
that had once been a grape-arbor and that had 
been removed to make way for the court. 

“What happened to you?” asked Ned. 
“Thought maybe they’d had you arrested. Bob 
and I were just talking of pooling our resources 
and bailing you out.” 

“I found I had nearly ninety cents,” said Bob 
proudly. 

“No, they were all right about it,” replied 
Laurie musingly. Then he lapsed into silence, 
staring thoughtfully at Thomas as he paced to 
and fro behind the stone roller. 

“What do you think of it?” asked Bob, nodding 
at the court. 


178 


A PERFECTLY GORGEOUS IDEA 179 

“Corking. Pretty nearly done, isn’t it!” 

“Pretty nearly. It ’ll take about two days to 
put the gravel on. They ’re going to bring the 
first load this afternoon. It has to have clay 
mixed with it, you know, and that makes it slower. 
And then it’s got to be rolled well—” 

“Seems to me,” said Laurie, “a turf 'court 
would have been easier.” 

“Yes, but they don’t last. You know that. 
And it ’s the very dickens to get a grass surface 
level.” 

Laurie nodded. It was evident to Ned, who 
had been watching him closely, that Laurie’s mind 
was not on the tennis-court. “What’s eating 
you, partner!” he asked finally. Laurie started. 

“Me! Nothing. That is, I’ve been thinking.” 

“Don’t,” begged Ned. “You know what it did 
to you yesterday.” 

“I want you and Bob to be at Polly’s this after¬ 
noon when she gets home from school. I Ve got 
something to tell you.” 

“Tell us now,” suggested Bob. Laurie shook 
his head. 

“No use saying it twice.” 

“What’s it about!” asked Ned. 


180 NID AND NOD 

“ About—about Miss Comfort.” 

“Gee,” said Bob, “I thought that was done 
with. What about her, Nod?” But Laurie 
shook his head, and their pleas for enlightenment 
were vain. 

“You *11 know all about it this afternoon,” he 
said. “So shut up.” A minute after he asked, 
“Say, Bob, does your father know the folks who 
run that quarry?” 

“Yes, I guess so. He buys stone from them. 
Why?” 

“I want to meet the head guy, president or 
general manager or whatever he calls himself. 
That’s all.” 

“Want to meet him! What for? Going to get 
after him for not having a railing around the top 
of the bluff ?’’ 

“Not exactly. Know any one here who has a 
launch ?’ y 

“Lunch? Say, what are you talking about?” 

“I didn’t say lunch, you goop; I said launch, 
1-a-u—” 

“Oh, launch! Why, no, I don’t believe so. I 
know a fellow who owns a canoe—” 

“Sure,” agreed Laurie with deep sarcasm, 



A PERFECTLY GORGEOUS IDEA 181 


“and I know a fellow who owns a bean-shooter, 
but it doesn’t interest me. There must be some 
one who has a launch around here. There are 
half a dozen on the river.” 

“Why, there ’s a man down there who rents 
boats, you idiot. I think he has some sort of a 
launch. I thought you meant—” 

“WTiat ’s his name? W 7 here’s he live?” 
“Name ’s Wilkins or Watkins or something, 
and he lives—I don’t know where he lives, but he 
keeps his boats up by the old chain-works.” 

“Thanks. You fellows going to spend the 
day here? Let’s do something.” 

“W 7 ant some tennis?” asked Bob eagerly. 
“I ’ll take on you and Nid.” 

Laurie looked inquiringly at his brother. 
‘ ‘ Would you ? ” he asked. ‘ ‘ Seems sort of too bad 
to take advantage of his ignorance.” 

“It ’ll teach him a lesson,” answered Ned, 
rising, stretching, and looking commiseratingly 
down at the challenger. “Pride goeth before a 
fall and a haughty spirit—” 

“Before the Turners,” completed Laurie. 
“Come on to the slaughter, Bob, before my heart 
softens and I let you off,” 


182 


NID AND NOD 


Shortly after three that afternoon, Laurie, 
perched on a counter in the Widow Deane's shop, 
had the floor. That sounds peculiar, I acknowl¬ 
edge, but you know what I mean. They were in 
the shop because Mrs. Deane and Miss Comfort 
were occupying the back—pardon me, the garden. 
“It 's like this,” Laurie was telling Polly, Mae, 
Ned, and Bob. “We couldn't find a place on 
land for Miss Comfort, and so it occurred to me 
that a place on the water might do.” He paused 
to enjoy the effect of this strange announce¬ 
ment. 

“On the water!” echoed Polly. “Why, what¬ 
ever do you mean?” 

“Yes,” cried Mae, “whatever—” 

“Don't you get it?” asked Ned. “He wants 
Miss Comfort to join the navy!” 

Laurie grinned. “Shut up, you idiot! You 
know the Pequot Queen?” They all agreed 
silently that they did. “Well, I Ve been all over 
the boat this morning. It would take about two 
or three days—and a few dollars, of course—to 
make her into just as nice a house as any one 
would want. Take that cabin—” 

“But, look here, you three-ply goop,” inter- 



A PERFECTLY GORGEOUS IDEA 183 


rupted Ned, “Miss Comfort would n’t want to 
live on a tumble-down old ferry-boat!” 

“How do you know?” asked Laurie, “Have 
you asked her?” 

“But—but she’d be afraid, Laurie,” protested 
Polly. “I bn sure I should! Suppose it floated 
away or—or sank—” 

“ Suppose it spread its wings and flew on top 
of the court-house,” answered Laurie sarcas¬ 
tically. ‘‘ It could n’t float away because it would 
be moored to the bank, and it couldn’t sink be¬ 
cause there wouldn’t be enough water under it. 
Now, just listen a minute until I get through. Of 
course I know that the scheme sounds funny to 
you folks because you haven’t any imagination. 
As for saying that Miss Comfort would n’t live in 
the Pequot Queen, you don’t know anything of the 
sort. I’m blamed certain that if I was—were 
Miss Comfort I ’da lot rather live in a nice clean 
boat tied to the bank than go to the poor-farm! ’ ’ 

‘ 1 Well, ’ ’ said Polly dubiously, ‘ ‘ you ’re a man. ’ ’ 

“A man!” jeered Ned. 

“Well, you know perfectly well what I mean,” 
said Polly. It was evident that Polly wanted 
very much to be convinced of the practicability of 


184 


NID AND NOD 


the plan, and her objection had been almost apol¬ 
ogetic. Mae, taking her cue from her friend, 

i 

awaited further enlightenment in pretty per¬ 
plexity. 

“Miss Comfort has enough to furnish it with,” 
continued Laurie. “At least, Polly said she had 
taken a lot of stuff with her.” Polly nodded 
vigorously. “All we’d have to do would be to 
board up about four windows on each side of the 
cabin, put some shades or curtains at the others, 
put a new lock on the door, run a stove-pipe 
through the roof—” 

“Perfectly simple and easy,” said Ned. “Go 
on, son.” 

“That’s about all. That cabin *s big enough 
for her to live in comfortably, big enough for a 
stove and bed and table and chairs—and—and 
everything. Then, there ’s the roof, too. Why, 
she could have a roof-garden up there, and a 
place to dry her clothes—” 

“After she’s fallen overboard?” asked Bob. 

“That’s all right,” answered Laurie a trifle 
warmly. “Have your fun, but the scheme *s all 
right, and if you’d quit spoofing and stop to 
think seriously a minute—” 


A PERFECTLY GORGEOUS IDEA 185 


“Why, I think it’s a perfectly splendid idea!” 
asserted Polly with a bewildering change of 
front. 

“Gorgeous!” chimed in Mae. 

“If only Miss Comfort can be persuaded to try 
a life on the ocean wave,” added Ned dryly. 
“Seems to me the first thing to do is to ask her 
what she thinks of it.” 

“No, it isn’t,” said Laurie. “The first thing 
is for you to go down there with me right now 
and see for yourselves. If you don’t agree with 
me we ’ll just let it drop.” 

“Of course,” said Polly. “Come on, every 
one! Oh, I do hope that Miss Comfort will like 
it!” 

“ITow about the owners!” asked Bob as, a 

minute later, they were all on the way to the 

• 

river. “Well, not the owners, for I suppose 
there are n’t any. But what about the quarry 
people, Nod! Think they ’ll let us have it!” 

“Don’t see why not. It’s no good to them, 
and it’s in their way. That’s where your father 
comes in, Bob. I want him to introduce us to the 
head guy and say a good word. Think he r d 
mind! ’ ’ 


186 


NID AND NOD 


“No, but even if Miss Comfort lived in the boat, 
Nod, it would be just as much in the way, 
wouldn’t it?” Bob looked puzzled. 

“No, because it would n’t be there any longer. 
We’d have it hauled out of their dock and taken 
to a place I found the other side of town, up-river. 
Know where Ash Street comes out down there? 
Well, about two blocks beyond that. We’d draw 
the boat up close to the bank, make her fast, and 
build a sort of bridge to the deck. Some of that 
stuff in your yard will come in very handy.” 

“Why, that would be perfect!” declared Polly. 
“I didn’t want to mention it, Laurie, but I was 
dreadfully afraid that Miss Comfort wouldn’t 
want to live down there by the quarry, with the 
dynamite shooting off and all those rough-looking 
men about! ’ r 

“Sounds as if the young fellow’s scheme might 
have something in it after all,” allowed Ned. 
“Just the same, I ’ll bet the quarry folks won’t 
give up the boat unless some one pays them for 
storage or whatever it’s called. ’ ’ 

“I’m not so sure,” said Bob. “Dad’s com¬ 
pany is a pretty good customer just now, and if 
dad will talk with the head of the firm—” 


~"V 



They all accompanied Laurie to the Pequot Q 







A PERFECTLY GORGEOUS IDEA 187 

“He might tell them that he wouldn’t buy any 
more of their old stone,” said Mae. U I guess 
that would—would bring them around!”' 

“Not a doubt of it,” laughed Ned. “Well, 
let’s have a good look at the old ship first. 
Maybe she’s fallen to pieces since morning!” 

But she hadn’t. They spent a full twenty 
minutes aboard her, while Laurie explained and 
Polly’s enthusiasm grew by leaps and bounds. 
Bob, too, came over to Laurie’s side, and even 
Ned, although he still pretended to doubt, was 
secretly favorable. As for Mae—well, as Polly 
went so went Mae! After they had viewed and 
discussed the Pequot Queeyi to their satisfaction, 
Laurie led them back along the river and showed 
the place he had selected for the Pequot Queen’s 
future moorings. It was a quiet spot, disturbed 
by scant traffic along the lane, now that the chain- 
works was no longer in operation. Passing 
steamers and tugs might infrequently break the 
silence with their whistles, and when, further 
down, a coal-barge tied up at the wharf, the whir 
of the unloading machinery would come softened 
by distance. Between the well-nigh unused road 
and the water lay a strip of grass and weeds, a 


188 


NID AND NOD 


ribbon of rushes, a narrow pebbled beach. Some 
sixty feet out a sunken canal-boat exposed her 
deck-house above the surface. -Six yards or so 
from the tiny beach the remains of a wooden bulk¬ 
head stretched. In places the piles alone re¬ 
mained, but opposite where Laurie had halted his 
companions there was a twelve-foot stretch of 
planking still spiked to the piles. 

4 4 We could bring her up to that bulkhead and 
make her fast to the piles at bow and stem. I 
figure that there ’s just about enough water there 
to float her. Then we ’d built a sort of bridge 
or gangway from the bulkhead to the shore. 
She couldn’t get away, and she couldn’t sink. 
That old hulk out beyond would act as a sort of 
breakwater if there was a storm, too.” 

“I think it’s a perfectly gorgeous idea,” said 
Polly ecstatically. 4 4 And just see, Mae, how 
very, very quiet and respectable it is here!” 

Ned, though, seemed bent on enacting the role 
of Mr. Spoilsport. 44 That’s all right,” he said, 

4 4 but how are you going to get permission to tie 
her up here! This property belongs to some one, 
doesn’t it?” 

Laurie looked taken aback. 44 Why, I don’t be- 


A PERFECTLY GORGEOUS IDEA 189 


lieve so, Ned. Here ’s the road and here ’s the 
river. There’s only a few feet—” 

“Just the same/’ Ned persisted, “some one ’s 
bound to own as far as high tide.” 

“Maybe the folks in the house across the road,” 
suggested Mae. 

“Mean to tell me,” demanded Laurie, “that 
the fellow who left that canal-boat out there had 
to ask permission!” 

“That’s in deep water,” answered Ned. 

4 ‘ So would the Pequot Queen be in deep water! ’’ 

“Maybe, but your bridge or gangplank 
wouldn’t be.” 

“Oh, ’ shucks,” said Laurie. “That doesn’t 
sound like sense. Does it, Bob?” 

“Well, I guess whoever owns this little strip 
wouldn’t object to a person landing on it.” 

“Of course not,” said Polly. “Besides, I 
don’t believe it belongs to any one—except the 
town or the State of New York or some one like 
that!” 

“Guess we can find that out easy enough,” said 
Laurie, recovering confidence. “Now, what’s 
the verdict? Think there’s anything in the 
scheme ? ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XV 


ROMANCE AND MISS COMFORT 


T HEY did, even Ned allowing that, if certain 
obstacles already indicated by him could be 
surmounted, and if Miss Comfort could be per¬ 
suaded to adopt a nautical life, the scheme had 
merit. 

“All right,’’ said Laurie, “Then the next 
thing is to sound out Miss Comfort. You can 
do that better than any of the rest of us, Ned.”* 
“Me? Where do you get that stuff?” de¬ 
manded Ned. “It ’s your scheme.” 

“But I haven’t your—your powers of descrip¬ 
tion and—er—persuasion, old-timer.” 

“Nothing doing,” replied Ned implacably. 
“I ’ll go with you and help out, but it ’s your 
idea, and you’ve got to spring it.” 

“Yes, Laurie,” agreed Polly, “I think you can 
explain it more clearly than Ned can, because* 
you’ve thought it all out so wonderfully. But 
we ’ll all go with you, of course.” 

190 


•# 


ROMANCE AND MISS COMFORT 191 

“All right,” assented Laurie. “Let ’s go and 
get it over with. I dare say she won’t listen to 
it, though.” 

“You can’t tell,” said Polly. “Miss Comfort 
is awfully—well,- courageous, Laurie, and she 
thinks you ’re so wonderful that—” 

“Huh,” muttered Ned. “Wonder where she 
got that notion.” 

“Compared to the poor-farm,” declared Mae, 
“I think the Pequot Queen is a perfect par¬ 
adise!” 

“Well, you just mention that to Miss Comfort, 
will you?” requested 'Laurie gloomily as they 
started back. 

“Guess there’s another thing we haven’t con¬ 
sidered,” said Bob thoughtfully. 

“What are you doing?” asked Laurie dis¬ 
gustedly. “Stealing Ned’s stuff?” 

“No, but look here; Miss Comfort will be an 
awful long way from folks who buy her cake and 
stuff, won’t she? Think they ’ll hike way down 
here?” 

A short silence ensued. Then said Polly, 
“That is so, Laurie, but maybe—” 

“Sure, it’s so,” was the answer, “but will you 


192 


NID AND NOD 


allow me to remind the gentleman that this place 
down here is just about a mile and a half nearer 
than the poor-farm?” 

‘ 6 Never thought of that,” laughed Bob. 

‘ ‘ Anyway,” said Polly cheerfully, “I don’t 
believe it will matter much. If folks want Miss 
Comfort’s cakes they ’ll come for them, or send 
for them. As for what we buy, why, I wouldn’t 
mind coming for it a mite. It—it’s just a nice 
walk! ’ 9 

They found Mrs. Deane and Miss Comfort hav¬ 
ing tea in the sitting-room when they reached the 
little blue house, and their errand must needs be 
postponed until more cups and saucers and more 
sweet crackers had been distributed. At last, 
however, with four pair of eyes fixed on him with 
embarrassing attentiveness, Laurie set down his 
cup, drew a long breath, and broke the moment’s 
silence with an explosive “Miss Comfort!” 

That poor lady was so startled that she nearly 
upset her tea. Laurie plunged on hurriedly. 

“I suppose you have n’t heard any more from 
your brother-in-law, have you?” 

“Why—why, no! No, I haven’t, Mr. Laurie.” 

“Thought so,” resumed Laurie, “Well, now, 


.ROMANCE AND MISS COMFORT 193 

here ’s—here ’s something that it seemed to me—« 
to all of us that maybe would be something that 
you might sort of take into consideration if noth¬ 
ing better turned up, because, after all, that poor- 
farm is n ’t any place for a lady like you, and 
being on the water is n’t anything at all if you ’re 
hitched up tight to the land and know you can’t 
sink, which you couldn’t possibly, Miss Comfort, 
because there wouldn’t be enough water under 
you.” 

Laurie paused for breath and realized with; 
confusion that he had made an extremely poor 
start. Miss Comfort looked bewilderedly from 
him to Mrs. Deane, to Polly, to Ned, and back to 
Laurie. “Sakes alive!” she gasped. ‘‘What in 
the world is he talking about ? ’ ’ 

Mae’s giggle came as a welcome diversion. 

“Laurie,” said Polly, “you ’ll have to start 
right at the beginning, you know.” She turned 
to Miss Comfort. “He has a perfectly wonderful 
idea, Miss Comfort, and we ’re all just crazy 
about it. Now, Laurie.” 

The interlude had allowed the exponent of the 
wonderful idea not only to recover his breath 
but to rearrange his thoughts, and now he began 


194 


NID AND NOD 


over and Explained very creditably just what the 
idea was. Occasionally one of the others threw 
in a helpful word, Miss Comfort, who had taken 
up her crocheting after setting her tea-cup aside, 
soon laid it down. Her face brightened as 
Laurie’s idea became clearer to her and her eyes 
sparkled more than ever. She leaned forward in 
rapt attention, and did not interrupt once. Even 
when Laurie had said all he could think of and 
Polly had added an enthusiastic postscript, Miss 
Comfort said no word for several silent mo¬ 
ments. Then she gave a deep sigh and clasped 
her thin hands tightly above her crocheting. 

“And I wouldn’t have to go to that place!” 
she breathed wonderingly. 

“Laurie, what did I tell you?” cried Polly 
joyously. 

“I’m sure,” said Mrs. Deane, “it would be 
very nice, Pansy—” three startled gasps followed 
—“but would you feel quite—quite at ease on 
a boat?” 

“I should,” replied Miss Comfort with sur¬ 
prising emphasis. “I’ve always been fond of 
the sea, all my life. Maybe it’s because my 
grandfather on my mother’s side was a sea- 


ROMANCE AND MISS COMFORT 195 

captain. That Spode tea-cnp that you admired 
so much was a part of a set that he brought back 
from one of his voyages. Yes, ever since I was 
a child I’ve longed for the sea and for ships. 
Once I almost took a trip from New York to Fall 
River on a steamer, but just at the last moment 
mother decided to go by train instead. I was 
tragically disappointed. And now to think that 
after all these years I ’m to—to go to sea!” 

“But, you know,” said Ned, breaking the little 
silence that followed, “it wouldn’t be exactly 
going to sea, Miss Comfort, for, of course, the 
boat would be tied to the—the land, and—” 

“It would be for me,” replied Miss Comfort 
softly. “I’d be living on a boat with the water 
all around me. And I could watch the steamers 
and the ships come and go. And there ’d be the 
smell of the salt water all the time, too. Oh, my 
dears, I ’d love it! It—it sounds far, far too 
good to be true, Mr. Laurie. Are you sure that—- 
that everything can be arranged?” 

Miss Comfort felt for a square of linen with 
a narrow black border and gently dabbed her 
eyes. Laurie felt it his duty to acknowledge that 
he wasn’t sure at all, but he did nothing of the 


196 


NID AND NOD 


sort. He scowled surreptitiously at Ned and 
answered firmly: “Absolutely, Miss Comfort. 
There is n ’t a doubt! ’ ’ 

And then, to Laurie’s surprise, Ned said just 
as convincedly, “It’s as good as fixed right now, 
ma ’am.” 

Miss Comfort sighed happily and beamed about 
the circle. “Well, I just can’t believe it,” she 
said, laughing tremulously at her own emotion. 
“Why, I can’t think of anything that would make 
me happier than to live on a real boat right on 
the water! Just think of going to sleep with the 
lapping of the waves all about, and of waking up 
in the morning and seeing the blue, blue ocean— 
no, I should say river—stretching away and 
away! Oh, my dears, there’s romance about the 
sea that I’ve always longed to know. Maybe, at 
my time of life, I shouldn’t be talking about 
romance, but—” 

“Fiddlesticks!” exclaimed Mrs. Deane vehe¬ 
mently. “Fiddlesticks, my dear! At your time 
of life, indeed!” It seemed to the others that the 
Widow might have borrowed Miss Comfort’s 
handkerchief and put it to good use. Laurie 
cleared his throat. 


ROMANCE AND MISS COMFORT 197 

“That ’s right,” he said gruffly. “I guess 
folks can enjoy things like that just as much at 
eight—sev—sixty as they can any time!” Aware 
of Polly’s horrified look, he subsided. Miss Com¬ 
fort, though, was far too absorbed in the joyous 
prospect to heed. 

“I must go and see it,” she went on animatedly. 
“ Is it very far, Mr. Laurie ? I suppose, ’ ’ she con¬ 
cluded, with a sigh, “it’s too late to go to-day.” 

“Yes’m,” assented Laurie. “I guess you ’d 
better wait until to-morrow. It ’s quite a walk 
for—er—for any one.” 

“We ’ll all go down to-morrow morning,” an¬ 
nounced Polly, “every one of us. Yes, you will, 
too, mama. I ’ll get Miss Billings to tend the 
store for an hour. If we start at eight I can get 
back in time for school.” 

“Eight!” exclaimed Laurie. 

“Of course. We ’re all through breakfast at 
half-past seven, and—” 

“But, Polly, maybe that would be too early for 
the boys, dear,” interposed her mother. “Per¬ 
haps they don’t have breakfast—” 

“It’s all right, Mrs. Deane,” said Ned. 
“We ’ll meet you over at the school corner at 



198 


NID AND NOD 


eight. Laurie was just thinking that perhaps we 
ought to start earlier, weren’t you, old son?” 

“Er—oh, yes! Sure! Still, eight will do, I 
guess.” 

“Then that’s arranged,” said Polly. “Now 
let’s talk about the boat some more.” 

The next morning they all set out according to 
schedule to show Miss Comfort the Pequot Queen. 
Laurie had doubts as to the wisdom of this, for 
he thought it would have been better if they 
could have fixed up the boat a little before ex¬ 
hibiting it. But, as Polly said, Miss Comfort 
would never have waited. Laurie need not have 
entertained any uneasiness. Even the river 
threw Miss Comfort into a tremor of delight, and 
after that she walked so fast that Mrs. Deane had 
hard work to keep up with her. When, while still 
at a distance, Laurie pointed out the Pequot 
Queen with a few stammered words of apblogy, 
Miss Comfort stopped still, clasped her hands, 
this morning adorned with black silk mitts, and 
gazed long and silently. The boys viewed her 
doubtfully and anxiously, but doubt and anxiety 
speedily fled, for the little lady’s face expressed 
something very close to rapture. The boys 


ROMANCE AND MISS COMFORT 199 


looked away. Ned whistled a few tuneless notes 
softly. Then they went on, Miss Comfort walk¬ 
ing faster than ever and saying no word. 

“Well,” said Laurie later,‘ ‘you’ve got to hand 
it to her for imagination. Why, when I said to 
her, ‘Here’s where the stove goes,’ or ‘You could 
put your bureau here, Miss Comfort/ blessed if 
I don’t think she actually saw them there! Once, 
after she’d decided to put the kitchen table over 
on the further side of the cabin, she was over 
there a few minutes later and sort of feeling 
around just like she was trying to find the rolling- 
pin or something!” 

“And wasn’t she pleased?” asked Bob. 
“Gosh, you’d have thought we’d presented her 
with a million-dollar castle! The old girl is cer¬ 
tainly happy!” 

“Cut out the ‘old girl’ stuff,” growled Ned. 
“She ,’s a lady.” 

“Sure, I didn’t mean anything, Ned. And as 
for being old, gee, I’ve seen a heap of younger 
folks that couldn’t have shown half her pep!” 

A visit to the town hall obtained for them the 
information that the tract of land between road 
and river behind the old bulkhead was town prop- 


200 


NID AND NOD 


erty, and their informant assured them that no 
one would object to the contemplated gangway. 

Laurie got back to No. 16 alone to discover 
Kewpie, sweatered and unkempt of hair, lolling 
in the Morris chair and fondling glove and ball. 
“Say, where the dickens have you been?” 
Kewpie demanded aggrievedly. “I Ve been 
waiting hours! ’ 9 

“Hello!” said Laurie blankly. “Where— 
where did you drop from?” 

“Came on the ten twenty, of course. Wanted 
to get some work in before dinner. Thought 
you *d be all ready for me, too!” 

Laurie returned the other’s reproachful gaze 
with one even more reproachful, “Oh, gosh,” 
he sighed. “I was hoping you’d forget to come 
back! ’ 9 


CHAPTER XVI 


MR. BROSE WILKINS 


T HERE seemed nothing for it but to take 
Kewpie into their confidence, and this they 
did when, after dinner, Ned and Laurie were back 
in No. lfi. Kewpie, still demanding a work-out 
and impatient at delay, proved that he was not 
entirely obsessed by baseball. He became quite 
excited about Miss Comfort and the Pequot Queen 
and demanded to be let in on the affair. 

“Got any money?” asked Ned. 

Kewpie smiled in an irritatingly superior man¬ 
ner and showed a purse fairly bulging with bills 
and silver coins. “Which,” he observed grandly, 
reminds me that I owe you fellows a trifle.” The 
twins accepted payment without demur. 

“I asked about money,” said Ned when that 
matter had been concluded, “because to get in on 
this game, Kewpie, you have to have—er—three 
dollars.” 

Kewpie r s countenance promptly betrayed the 

201 


* 


202 


NID AND NOD 


secret thought that he could remain out and still 
manage to survive. Whereupon Laurie added 
hastily: “Of course, three dollars makes you a 
life member, you understand. You can become 
an ordinary member for two.” 

Kewpie grinned and disentangled two one- 
dollar bills from the wad. Ned accepted them 
gravely. “Want a receipt?” he asked. 

“Yes, I r d like a receipt for your cheek,” re¬ 
sponded Kewpie flippantly. “Bet nobody else 
has put in any little old two dollars! Bet nobody 
else has put in two bits!” 

“The books of the association are always open 
to inspection,” replied Ned coldly, pocketing 
Kewpie J s contribution. 

“All right, Nid. Now, what about some pitch¬ 
ing?” 

Laurie tottered to his feet. “Come on,” he 
sighed. “But, oh, Kewpie darling I rue the day 
I first looked on your ugly face!” 

Later that day the initial contribution to the 
expense fund was augmented by like sums paid 
or pledged by the others, and the colossal amount 
of twelve dollars resulted. Laurie opined that it 


MR. BROSE WILKINS 


203 


would suffice, since he meant to beg or borrow 
whenever possible. In the evening the twins 
went over to see Bob’s father, and that gentleman 
readily agreed to intercede with the Porter 
Quarry Company in their behalf. “I ’ll stop 
there in the morning, boys, and see Porter him¬ 
self. Bob, you stay around the telephone here, 
and I ’ll call you up about nine.” 

And at a little after nine the next morning the 
message came. The Porter Quarry Company, 
Mr. Starling telephoned, claimed no equity in the 
Pequot Queen , and, furthermore, would be ex¬ 
tremely relieved to see the last of her! 

Five minutes later Laurie and Bob had set out 
to find Mr. Wilkins, who conducted the boat-yard 
a quarter of a mile beyond the new location 
chosen for the Pequot Queen. There were a pier 
and a landing, two weather-stained sheds, piles of 
second-hand lumber, and a few boats in various 
stages of dissolution. But there was no Mr. 
Wilkins, even though they crossed the lane and 
adventured to a neighboring house. They had 
decided to give up the search for the time when 
there came a hail from the river. A small launch 


204 


NID AND NOD 


chugged toward shore, and a man waved to them 
from it. They went to meet it. The noisy motor 
was stilled, and the man hailed again. 

“Looking for dad?” he asked. He was a tall 
chap of possibly twenty-two or three years with 
copper-red hair that curled closely about his bare 
head. His face was long and thin and chiefly re¬ 
markable for a lazy, good-natured, and very wide 
smile. The boys explained their errand while the 
little launch floated close to the inshore end of the 
wharf. 

“Dad ’s over to Hamlin doing a job of work. 
But I can give you a tow. Where ’s your 
launch?” Bob' told him. “Huh?” asked young 
Mr. Wilkins, his smile almost fading. “The old 
P. Q9 You bought her?” They explained fur¬ 
ther. Young Mr. Wilkins looked dubious. 
“Don’t know as I’d want to take a chance like 
that,” he said. “S’pose the Porter folks had me 
pinched. May be all right, fellers, like you say, 
but you don’t own her—” 

“But we’ve told you that it’s all right,” inter¬ 
rupted Bob. “We would n’t be stealing her, any¬ 
how. All we want to do is bring her up the river 
and tie her up to the bulkhead down there.” 


MR. BROSE WILKINS 


205 


“That’s so.” The tall youth’s smile broad¬ 
ened to normal. “All right. When you want 
I should do it?” 

“Pronto,” said Laurie. “Right off. How 
much will you charge for the job?” 

Young Mr. Wilkins viewed them swiftly and 
shrewdly. “Oh, it ain’t worth more ’n five dol¬ 
lars, I guess,” he answered carelessly. 

“I ’ll say it isn’t!” exclaimed Bob. “Listen, 
please. We ’re not selling you the boat. All we 
want is a tow.” 

The other laughed merrily. “I wouldn’t give 
you five dollars for her, feller. Well, how much 
do you want to pay?” 

Oddly, perhaps, they hadn’t considered the 
question before. But Laurie answered quite 
promptly, “Two dollars.” 

“All right,” was the equally prompt reply. 
“Jump in!” 

Two minutes later the launch was chugging 
out into the stream, Laurie and Bob huddled in 
the stern seat, with the water rippling past a 
scant four inches below the gunwale. The craft 
was rather an amazing affair, being not more 
than fourteen feet in length and apparently built 


206 


NID AND NOD 


of odds and ends. No two planks seemed the 
same width, while, as for length, they were any¬ 
where from two feet to ten. Water trickled in 
from innumerable seams. The engine was a 
diminutive thing of one cylinder, with a fly-wheel 
scarcely larger than a good-sized dinner-plate, but 
it pushed the boat along at a good gait, the boat 
shaking and trembling at every explosion in the 
cylinder. The skipper, seated on an empty box 
by the engine, laughed. 

“How do you like her?” he asked. “Some 
cruiser, eh? I knocked her together two, three 
years ago. Got that engine out of a yacht dinghy 
that sank over by Eagle Beak one time. She’s 
sort of wet underfoot, but she generally gets 
there. You fellers from Hillman’s?” 

Bob said they were. 

“Fine man, the Doctor. Used to work for him 
sometimes when I was in high school. Mowed 
grass and so on a couple of summers. My 
name’s Ambrose Wilkins. Called Brose gen¬ 
erally. What sort of a baseball team you fellers 
going to have up there this year?.” He gave a 
negligent tug at the tiller-line and swerved 
around the stern of a tug that was backing out 


MR. BROSE WILKINS 207 

from the coal-wharf with a lighter snuggled be¬ 
side her. 

“Why, pretty good, I reckon,’’ answered 
Laurie. 

Brose Wilkin’s grin broadened more. “Guess 
you weren’t up there when we played you that 
twenty-two to three game. Course not. That 
was five years ago. That was some game, boys. 
Hillman’s didn’t get a hit until the fifth and 
did n’t put a run over until the eighth. Then our 
in-field went flooey for a minute, and your crowd 
piled in three runs. Some game!” 

“Did you play?” asked Laurie. 

Brose nodded and squirted some oil in the gen¬ 
eral direction of the little engine. “Yeah,” he 
answered. “Pitched.” 

“Oh! Well, you must have been good,” re¬ 
plied Laurie. 

“Fair,” the other acknowledged modestly. 
“That w T ould have been a shut-out if a couple of 
our in-fielders hadn’t cracked.” 

Laurie stared intently at the Pequot Queen, 
now less than two hundred yards away. After a 
moment he asked idly, “Do you still play ball?” 

“Yeah, I pitch for the Lambert team, over to 


208 


NID AND NOD 


Munroe. At least, I been pitching for them. 
There’s a team down at Carmel that’s written me 
a couple of times lately. Guess they ’ll make me 
an offer soon. I got twenty a game from the 
Lamberts, but I guess this Carmel crowd ’ll do 
better. ’ 9 

“Twenty dollars a game?” asked Bob. 

“Yeah. ’T ain’t much, of course, but it helps. 
Besides, I like to play ball, and there ain’t so 
much doing up here that dad can’t tend to it once 
a week. Well, here’s the old P. Q . Gee- 
whillikins, fellers, I remember when this old scow 
was a regular lady! Say, what you guys mean¬ 
ing to do with her, anyway?” 

“That’s a long story,” evaded Laurie. 

“All right. None of my business, eh? Beach 
under that seat, will you, and pull out that coil of 
rope.” 

No one paid any attention as the Pequot 
Queen’s weather-grayed hawsers were cast off 
and, with Laurie and Bob at the bow, the long idle 
craft moved slowly from the dock. Until the last 
moment Laurie had feared that some officious 
employee of the quarry company would object, 
and he breathed freely when the boat was 


MR. BROSE WILKINS 209 

clear of the little harbor and her broad nose had 
been pointed np-stream. She moved sluggishly 
since, as Brose Wilkins remarked, she probably 
had enough water under her deck to fill a pond. 
“Water-line’s ’most a foot under,” said Brose, 
“but she ’ll come all right as soon as she gets, 
started.” The boys thought the three-quarter- 
inch manila rope that Brose was using as a tow 
line perilously weak, but it proved quite equal to 
its purpose. At first the little one-lung engine 
threatened to throb itself into junk in its effort 
to move the Pequot Queen, but gradually the 
larger craft got under way, imperceptibly at first, 
and the voyage up the river began. It was slow 
going, but the tiny launch never faltered, and the 
Pequot Queen, having, as it seemed, finally made 
up her mind to say good-by to her old home and 
set forth on an exciting adventure, displayed a 
cheerful willingness to follow this new acquaint¬ 
ance. 

On the coal-wharf a half-dozen workers paused 
in their labors and stared incredulously. One 
shouted a question, and after that the Pequot 
Queen wallowed leisurely past to a chorus of 
ribald comments. In answer Laurie, seated on 


210 


NID AND NOD 


the bow rail, waved a nonchalant hand. Further 
along other denizens of the waterfront stood and 
stared at the sight. That they were causing a 
tremendous sensation was quite evident to the 
passengers on the old ferry-boat, and, boy-like, 
they enjoyed it thoroughly. Laurie regretted 
that they hadn’t brought a flag and run it up 
on the short staff beside them! 

Getting the Pequot Queen into her new berth 
was far more difficult than persuading her to 
leave her old home. She had to be taken past the 
sunken canal-boat without running her bow on the 
bottom, and that task required patience and in¬ 
genuity. But Brose Wilkins was equal to it, and 
finally, after much tugging and swinging and 
shoving—the Pequot Queen y s steering apparatus 
was no longer of use—the battered old craft was 
lying against the short stretch of bulkhead. That 
her rail smashed off the upper plank of the bulk¬ 
head was immaterial, since it allowed her to get 
a few inches nearer. That the boys had neglected 
to bring anything to tie the boat up with com¬ 
plicated matters at first. They had not brought 
the old hawsers along since they had been un¬ 
certain whether they had been the property of the 



MR. BROSE WILKINS 


211 


boat’s former owners or of the quarry company. 
In any case, those rotted ropes would have been 
of only temporary use. Laurie offered to run 
over to a store and get some new line, but Brose 
vetoed that suggestion. 

“You fellers hold her here a few minutes,” he 
said. “We Ve got some second-hand stuff over 
in the shed that ’ll do fine and won’t cost you but 
a few cents. All we need is about thirty feet at 
each end. ’ ’ He chugged off, leaving the boys sit¬ 
ting on the rail of the boat with their legs dan¬ 
gling over the bulkhead planking. The Pequot 
Queen showed no desire to leave her new home. 
In fact, she seemed more desirous of pushing her 
way right up on the beach, and Laurie audibly 
wondered whether they hadn’t better somehow 
strengthen the bulkhead. 

“I guess she ’ll be all right when she’s once 
tied up,” said Bob. “We ’ll ask the Wilkins 
chap when he comes back.” 

Brose allayed their fears as he climbed aboard 
the Pequot Queen with a supply of thick hawser. 
“She won’t budge when we get her fixed,” he 
assured them. “Ease her off a bit while I stick 
these fenders over the side.” The fenders were 


212 


NID AND NOD 


two sausage-shaped canvas bags attached to short 
lengths of cord, and he inserted them between 
bulkhead and boat about ten feet apart, making 
the free ends of the cords fast under the low rail. 
“They won’t cost you anything,” he said. 
“They ’re worn out. All right for this job, 
though. Now let’s see.” 

Ten minutes later the Pequot Queen was fast, 
bow and stern, the worn but still serviceable haw¬ 
sers securely tied to two spiles. “There,” said 
Brose. “She ’ll stay put till the Yankees win the 
World’s Championship, fellers!” 

“We ’re awfully much obliged to you,” said 
Laurie gratefully. “You’ve been mighty decent. 
Now, how much is it, rope and all?” 

“Two dollars and seventy-five cents,” an¬ 
swered Brose. “But I ’ll throw off the seventy- 
five cents if you ’ll tell me what in the name of 
Old Joe Barnes you ’re aiming to do with her 
now you’ve got her!” 

Laurie questioned Bob silently, and, because 
they had taken a sudden and immense liking to 
the queer, loose-jointed, red-haired Brose, Bob 
nodded. So Laurie told him the whole story, and 
Brose Wilkins’s eyes opened wide and his broad 


MR. BROSE WILKINS 


213 


smile threatened to jostle his ears while he 
listened. Once or twice he chuckled, too. And 
when Laurie had finished he laughed until tears 
stood in his gray eyes. Laurie frowned then. 
He supposed it did sound rather funny, but 
Brose’s laughter lasted too long. It wasn’t that 
funny! Then, just when Laurie was forming a 
stinging rebuke in his mind, Brose wiped his 
streaming eyes with a sleeve of his old brown 
sweater and became coherent. He had previously 
attempted without success to speak. 

“Well, if that don’t beat the Cubs!” he gasped. 
“I got to hand it to you fellers for using the old 
bean! And, say, what about Miss Pansy, eh? 
Ain’t she running true to form? I ’ll say she is! 
You can’t beat that little woman, fellers. She’s 
plucky, she is! Think of her living down here all 

bv her lonesome, and tickled to do it because 

%/ / 

she’s on a boat! Funny, eh? And sporting, too, 
eh? She’s a wonder, Miss Pansy is!” 

“You know her then?” asked Laurie, mollified. 
“Know her? Know Miss Pansy Comfort? 
Known her since I was that high.” Brose swept 
a hand along about six inches from the deck.” 
Used to be in her Sunday-school class. Done odd 


214 


NID AND NOD 


jobs for her when I was a kid, often. Shingled 
the shed roof for her not more ’n four years ago. 
Sure, I know her. Guess every one does. I 
heard something about her having to leave that 
house up there, but I didn’t know she was up 
against it like that. Well, say!” 

“Don’t you think she’d get on all right here!” 
asked Laurie anxiously. “I’ve been thinking 
that it ’ll be sort of lonely here at night for her. ’ ’ 

“•She ’ll get on. Trust her. She’s plucky. 
Anyway, no one would trouble her. Why, gee- 
whillikins, I ’ll look out for her myself! I’m 
going past here all times, land or water, and I ’ll 
keep the old eagle eye peeled sharp. Another 
thing. You say you ’re going to fix this old ark 
up a bit. You’d have to, of course. Well, that’s 
where I come in, eh? I’m sort of handy with 
tools, and I’d like mighty well to help. What say, 
fellers?” 

“Gosh,” answered Laurie joyfully, “I say 
‘ Sure! ’ That ’ll be simply corking. And maybe 
you’ve got some tools?” 

“Tools? Yeah. Or if I ain’t I can get them. 
When you aiming to get at her and what you 
aiming to do?” 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE FUND GROWS 

T HEY parted from Brose Wilkins half an 
hour later. The work of fixing up the 
Pequot Queen for Miss Comfort’s accommodation 
seemed shorn of all difficulties. They were to 
start in the morning on the gangway between boat 
and shore, Bob supplying the material and Brose 
the tools. “Better get that up first,” said the 
latter, “ so’s you can get aboard without wading. 
You don’t need to bring much material, fellers. 
There’s a pile of second-hand stuff over on our 
wharf we can make use of. Don’t forget the 
spikes, though. I ain’t got any spikes. Well, 
see you fellers again.” 

Brose pushed off the launch w T ith a foot, jumped 
nimbly aboard, and waved a long, lean hand. 
And just then Laurie remembered something. 

“Hold on,” he called. “We haven’t paid 
you! ’ ’ 

“To-morrow,” said Brose. “It won’t be but 

215 


216 


NID AND NOD 


seventy-five cents, anyway; just the worth of that 
hawser. That tow ain’t going to cost anything 
now I know who I done it for!” 

The launch broke into sound and disappeared 
momentarily around the stem of the Pequot 
Queen . When they saw it again Brose was 
draped over the little engine, squirting oil. 

I fear that Laurie begrudged Kewpie the two 
sessions of pitching-practice that day. Certain 
it is that the afternoon session was shortened to 
a scant thirty minutes, after which four boys set 
forth on a shopping expedition, armed with a list 
that Laurie had made after dinner. Still later 
they joined Polly and Mae at the shop. Progress 
was reported and plans for the next day laid. 
Then Bob treated the crowd, Kewpie virtuously 
choosing a ginger-ale. 

To their disappointment, a light rain was fall¬ 
ing that Thursday morning when the four boys 
set forth for the Pequot Queen . Ned trundled a 
wheelbarrow laden with lumber, and the others 
each carried a couple of two-by fours or planks. 
Ned’s load also included a paper bag of iron 
spikes, two hammers, and a hatchet. They chose 
Ash Street in preference to the busier thorough- 


THE FUND GROWS 


217 


fares and, because the lumber on the wheelbarrow 
was continually falling off and the burdens on the 
boys’ shoulders required frequent shifting, their 
progress was slow. The rain wasn’t hard, but 
it was steady, and Ned, who had arisen in a de¬ 
pressed state of mind, grumbled alternately at the 
weather and the wheelbarrow. They scarcely ex¬ 
pected to find Brose Wilkins on hand when they 
reached the boat, but there he w r as awaiting them. 
Laurie introduced Ned and Kewpie, and work 
began. 

By eleven o’clock a gangway led from the bank 
to the deck of the Pequot Queen. Or, if you liked, 
you could call it a bridge. It was twenty-six feet 
in length and thirty-two inches wide, and it was 
supported midway by two posts which Brose had 
driven into the sand. It was railed on each side 
so that, even in the dark, Miss Comfort could 
traverse it safely. Later it was to be painted, 
the planking green and the hand-rails white. At 
least, that was what Brose said, and since Brose 
seemed to have taken command of operations no 
one doubted the assertion. Ned and Kewpie, who 
had been to Walnut Street on an errand, arrived 
just as the last plank was laid, and the five drew 


218 


NID AND NOD 


up on the bank and admired the gangway. Of 
course, as the material was all second-hand, the 
job didn’t possess the fine appearance that new 
lumber lends. A stern critic might even have 
sneered at the joinery, for Brose Wilkins worked 
with speed rather than accuracy, and the gangway 
reminded Laurie a little of Brose’s launch. But 
it was strong and practical, and none of the ad¬ 
mirers were inclined to be fastidious. On the 
contrary the boys were loud in commendation, 
even Laurie and Bob, who had wielded saw and 
hammer under Brose’s direction, praised the re¬ 
sult highly. Then they all walked along it to the 
deck and solemnly and approvingly walked back 
again to the shore. As Bob said proudly, it 
did n’t even creak. 

They spent an hour clearing the boat of the 
worst of the dirt and rubbish, preparatory to the 
more careful going over to follow in the after¬ 
noon, and finally they parted from Brose and 
climbed the hill again. 

There was no pitching-practice that forenoon. 

Shortly after half-past one they went to Mrs. 
Deane’s, reported progress to Miss Comfort, bor¬ 
rowed two pails, a broom, a scrubbing-brush, and 


THE FUND GROWS 


219 


a mop, and returned to the scene of their labors. 
Brose was again ahead of them. He had taken 
down the smoke-stack and was covering the hole 
in the roof with a piece of zinc sheeting. “I was 
thinking,” he explained, “that she might want to 
use this place for something, and there was a lot 
of water coming in around that old funnel. After 
I paint around the edges of this it ’ll he tight.’’ 
Brose drove a last flat-headed nail and swung his 
legs over the side of the boiler-room. “I was 
thinking that maybe she’d like to keep a few hens 
in here.” 

“Hens!” cried the quartet below in incredulous 
chorus. 

Brose nodded. “Yeah, she was always fond of 
hens, Miss Pansy. Used to have quite a lot of 
’em until her fences got sort of had and they took 
to wandering into other folks ’ yards. There 
wouldn’t he much trouble here, I guess. They 
could go ashore and wander as much as they 
pleased and not hurt anything.” 

Ned broke into laughter. “Can’t you see Miss 
Comfort’s hens filing ashore every morning with 
a big red rooster in the lead?” 

“Sure,” agreed Brose. “Put up half a dozen 


220 


NID AND NOD 


nests and a couple of roosts across here and 
you’d have a fine chicken-house. Anyhow, no 
harm in stopping the leak.” 

“I dare say she can use it for something, any¬ 
how,” said Laurie. 

“If it was me,” said Kewpie, “I’d keep ducks. 
Look at all the water they’d have!” 

For better than an hour dust flew from bow to 
stern on the Pequot Queen, and the scrape of the 
scrubbing-brush and the slap of the mop sounded 
from cabin, deck, and wheel-house. To introduce 
water into the boiler room would have made mat¬ 
ters only worse there, for the floor and even the 
walls were black with coal-dust. Thev cleaned 
out the fire-box and used the broom repeatedly 
and closed the doors on the scene. But by four 
o’clock the rest of the boat was thoroughly clean, 
and only sunlight and warmth were needed to 
complete the work. The rather worn linoleum 
on the cabin floor looked very different after 
Bob ’s scrubbing brush and Kewpie ’s mop had got 
through with it. Even the paint in there had 
been won back to a fair semblance of whiteness. 
By that time Polly and Mae, released from school, 


THE FUND GBOWS 


221 


had also arrived, and the Pequot Queen resounded 
to eager voices. The rain had ceased and beyond 
the hills westward the gray clouds were breaking 
when, carrying pails and mop, broom and brush, 
the party of six went back to the shop in merry 
mood. 

It had been very hard to keep Miss Comfort 
away from her new home thus far, and, since 
they wanted to have everything in shape before 
she saw it, they didn’t recount to her all that 
had been accomplished, “You see, ma’am,” said 
Laurie, “she was pretty dirty, and—” 

“But I ’ll attend to the cleaning,” declared 
Miss Comfort eagerly. “Land sakes, I don’t ex¬ 
pect you boys to do that!” 

“No, ma’am, well, now you take that hen—T 
mean boiler-room. That wouldn’t be any sort 
of work for you.” 

“But it doesn’t seem right to let you young 
folks do so much. Why, just look at the boy’s 
shoes! They ’re soaking wet! ’ ’ 

“Oh, Kewpie does n’t mind that, Miss Comfort. 
Besides, I guess it’s just outside that’s wet. 
Is n’t it, Kewpie ? ’ ’ 


222 


NID AND NOD 


Kewpie moved his foot once or twice experi¬ 
mentally and obtained a gentle squishing sound. 
He nodded. “That ’s all,” he said. 

“But,” resumed Laurie, “I guess we ’ll have 
everything ready for you by Saturday noon. I 
thought we might get the stove down that morn¬ 
ing and put it up. Then, maybe, on Monday you 
could move in!” 

“You don’t think I could get settled Satur¬ 
day?” pleaded Miss Comfort. “I’d so love to 
spend Sunday in my—my new home. ’ ’ 

Laurie silently consulted the others and read 
assent. “Why, yes, ma’am, I think we could 
have everything all ready by, say, half-past ten or 
eleven.” 

“That would be much nicer,” exclaimed Polly, 
“for then we could all help get the things ar¬ 
ranged. ’ ’ 

“Oh, thank you,” cried Miss Comfort grate¬ 
fully. “To-morrow I ’ll engage Peter Brown to 
move my things Saturday morning. And to think 
that it won’t be to the poor-farm! I told Mr. 
Grierson yesterday about it. He’s one of the 
overseers, you know. He seemed—almost—al¬ 
most put out, and I thought for a moment he was 



THE FUND GROWS 


223 


going to insist on my going to that place after 
all.” Miss Comfort laughed softly. “He said 
he had been ‘ counting on me.’ ’ 9 

“Yes, ma’am,” said Laurie, “you go ahead 
and arrange for the team for Saturday at about 
ten thirty, and we ’ll see that the place is all 
ready, won’t we, Polly!” 

“Yes, indeed, we will, Miss Comfort, even if 
we have to—to work all night! Mae and I don’t 
have to go to school again for a week after to¬ 
morrow, and we can do lots of things for you, 
I’m sure. ’ ’ 

“You’ve done so much already, my dear, all 
of you!” Miss Comfort sighed, but it was a happy 
sigh. “I don’t know how to thank you, I’m sure. 
It does seem as if—as if—” 'She faltered then, 
and before she could continue Laurie got to his 
feet somewhat noisily and the others followed 
suit. 

‘ ‘ Got to go along, ’ ’ he said hurriedly. 11 Change 
Kewpie’s feet—shoes, I mean. Might take cold. 
See you in the morning, folks.” 

Laurie made his escape, followed by the others, 
sighing relief. Outside on the bricks, Kewpie’s 
shoes squished beautifully, but Kewpie was 


224 


NID AND NOD 


frowning. “I like the old soul,” he announced, 
“but, say, she’s awful leaky around the eyes!” 

“So you’d be if you were seventy years old 
and folks were—were kind to you and—and all 
that sort of thing,” replied Laurie gruffly and 
vaguely. “Folks get that way when they ’re old; 
sort of grateful and tearful. They can’t help it, 
I guess!” 

It was still well short of supper-time, and so 
they stopped at Bob’s to see the tennis-court. 
The surface layer was almost finished, and two 
sturdy posts for the net, startlingly, shiningly 
green, had been sunk. While they admired, Mr. 
Starling joined them from the house, and Laurie 
thanked him for his assistance with the quarry 
company. 

“Glad to have helped, Laurie,” replied Bob’s 
father. “And that reminds me. Seen the pear- 
trees?” 

“Pear-trees? No, sir. Not to—to notice 
them.” 

“Come and look at them.” Mr. Starling led 
Laurie around the corner of the new court and 
along the further walk to where a few fruit-trees, 
their branches still bare, occupied one corner of 


THE FUND GROWS 


225 


the garden. Lanrie viewed the trees interestedly, 
but failed to note anything remarkable, and he 
turned to his guide for enlightenment. Mr. 
Starling was selecting two bills from a long black 
wallet, keeping his back to the others. He thrust 
the bills into Laurie’s hand. 

“We’d like to help a little, my sister and I,” 
he said. “Use that in any way you like, Laurie, 
but you need n’t say where it came from. If you 
need more, let me know.” 

“But we don’t really need it, sir,” protested 
the boy. “We’ve got twelve dollars, and I don’t 
believe—” 

“Put it in your pocket,” insisted Mr. Starling. 
“You can find some way of using it for Miss 
Comfort’s—er—comfort!” He raised his voice. 
“Look promising, don’t they? Lots of fruit this 
year, I guess. Thomas is quite a gardener, if 
you take his word for it.” He turned Laurie 
about with a hand on his shoulder and paced back 
toward the others. “We feel sort of sorry for 
that little woman,” he added, lowering his voice 
again. “Hard to pull up stakes at her age, I 
guess. Ought to do what we can for her, Laurie. 
Come to me again if you need some more.” 



226 


NID AND NOD 


At supper Dr. Hillman asked the twins to come 
to his study, and there he produced a pink slip 
of paper from a desk drawer and handed it to 
Laurie. 4 ‘My sister and I have wanted to help 
ever since we first learned of Miss Comfort ’s— 
ah—embarrassment, but have been somewdiat at 
a loss to know how to do so. She is greatly 
averse to anything resembling charity, as you 
probably know. To-day we heard of your inter¬ 
est in the matter, Laurence, and of your—ah— 
ingenious solution of the lady’s problem, and it 
occurred to us that if we handed a small contribu¬ 
tion to you you would doubtless be able to use it to 
advantage and at the same time—ah—consider it 
confidential.’’ 

“Twenty-five more!” exclaimed Laurie when 
they were back in No. 16. “Forty from Mr. Star¬ 
ling. Seventy-seven in all! What ’ll we do 
with it?” 

“Blessed if I know?” replied Ned, “unless we 
install steam heat and open plumbing! ’’ 



CHAPTER XVIII 


MISS COMFORT COMES ABOARD 

B EHOLD the Pequot Queen at ten o’clock 
Saturday morning! 

She is freshly painted from end to end on the 
shoreward side, gleaming white, with bright yel¬ 
low trim. The other side is to be done later. 
Just now the painter, a sure-enough professional 
painter from Joyce & Connell’s, is finishing the 
upper deck. 

The gangway is resplendent, too, for Brose did 
that himself yesterday, using plenty of drier. 
The deck is protected by bits of board to walk on, 
although by evening the buff paint will be hard 
enough. The doors are to have a second coat 
later, but as they are they look pretty fine. Won¬ 
derful what paint will do, is n’t it? You’d hardly 
think this was the same old Pequot Queen. 

But there’s the cabin yet. Linoleum shining 
with new varnish, walls and ceiling creamy white, 

blue and white curtains at the windows, Miss 

227 


228 


NID AND NOD 


Comfort, ’s old stove blackened and polished by 
Kewpie until you’d never suspect it was not 
brand-new! And that’s a real sink in the cor¬ 
ner, even though it isn’t working yet. You just 
can’t hurry a plumber! There ’ll be a pump 
alongside, of course. Miss Comfort will get her 
drinking-water at the Parmenter’s across the 
road. They ’re real friendly folks. Mr. Par- 
menter hauled the coal that’s in the bin in the 
boiler-room himself. That shelving is all new. 
Brose and Bob put that up. The hanging lamp 
in the center is one Mrs. Deane had. Miss Star¬ 
ling sent those flowers. Looks pretty nice, 
doesn’t it! Wouldn’t mind living here your¬ 
self! Well, neither would I! And look at the 
view from those windows; sun sparkling on the 
water, boats passing! Think Miss Comfort ’ll 
like it! 

That was a busy, bustling morning. As early 
as Ned and Laurie and Kewpie reached the 
Pequot Queen, Polly and Mae and Brose Wilkins 
were before them. Although much had been ac¬ 
complished yesterday, much remained to be done. 
Bob arrived an hour later, bearing a box of 


MISS COMFORT COMES ABOARD 229 


flowers from his aunt. Brose, singing as he 
worked, dropped his hammer to touch up a spot 
with a paint-brush, abandoned paint-brush to 
seize again on hammer or screw-driver. Kewpie, 
eager for employment, got in every one’s way 
and accumulated a great deal of fresh white pig¬ 
ment every time he turned around. The plumber, 
having set the sink up, went away, and the awn¬ 
ing man arrived to take measurements. The 
awning was to cover the rear half of the roof- 
deck. There had once been an awning all over 
the roof, and, although the frame had disap¬ 
peared, the sockets into which the uprights had 
been screwed remained. To put an awning over 
the whole roof-deck was beyond their means, but 
they could well afford to protect half of it. Brose 
was going to make two flower-boxes to fit the 
benches along the railing and fill them with earth 
so that, when summer came, Miss Comfort would 
have a veritable roof-garden up there. Brose; 
thought of all sorts of things, practical and other¬ 
wise. One of the practical things was a place 
to dry clothes on the small deck forward, where 
he stretched four lengths of line from a post set 


230 


NID AND NOD 


in the flag-pole socket at the extreme bow to four 
galvanized iron hooks screwed to the front of the 
wheel-house. 

At eleven Peter Brown arrived with Miss Com¬ 
fort’s worldly belongings. Peter was small and 
very black; Peter’s horse was small and presum¬ 
ably white; and Peter’s wagon was small and 
extremely ramshackle. How he managed to get 
so much on it was a question! A narrow black 
walnut bedstead in several sections, together with 
its appurtenances; a drop-leaf mahogany table; 
a funny old trunk with a rounded top; five chairs 
of assorted shapes and sizes; a packing-case of 
cooking-utensils; a barrel of china and crockery; 
a walnut what-not; a wash-boiler filled with mis¬ 
cellany; a marble clock wrapped in a patchwork 
quilt; some books; three pictures in faded gilt 
frames; a huge bundle of bedding; a roll of frayed 
straw matting; some braided rugs; a spotless deal 
table and various other smaller sundries. 

Peter and Brose unloaded at the end of the 
gangway, and the boys bore the things aboard. 
In the cabin Polly and Mae directed the bestowing 
of them, wiping everything clean with a dust- 
clo.th as it was set in place. The packing-case 


MISS COMFOET COMES ABOAED 231 

was left on deck, as was the barrel, but the rest 
of the things went inside, and when they were 
all there there was just room for the two girls 
to move cautiously about! 

But half an hour later there was another tale 
to tell. The cooking-utensils were hung on nails, 
the dishes were on the shelves, the bed was set 
up and dressed, the trunk was under the deal 
table, the rugs were on the floor, the pictures 
were hung, the drop-leaf table stood under the 
hanging lamp, and order had emerged from chaos. 
Of course, as Polly acknowledged, the place did 
look a trifle crowded, but she guessed Miss Com¬ 
fort would n’t mind. Two articles alone defeated 
their efforts, the what-not and the marble clock. 
The what-not, built to fit in a corner, looked sadly 
out of place at the foot of the bed, and the marble 
clock simply cried aloud for a mantel to rest on. 
But the corners were all occupied, and there was 
no mantel; and so the what-not remained where 
they had put it, and the clock for the time being 
reposed on a window-sill. 

Brose hustled the empty case and barrel to the 
boiler-room, which compartment held also a sup¬ 
ply of kindling-wood and a quarter of a ton of 


232 NID AND NOD 

coal and so didn’t look one bit like a hen-house! 
Miss Comfort was to have an early lunch at Mrs. 
Deane’s, and she and the Widow were to arrive 
at the boat about half-past twelve. At exactly 
twelve Polly flipped her dust-cloth for the last 
time, the painter stowed his belongings in the 
wheel-house and called it a day, Brose relin¬ 
quished his hammer, and seven satisfied and 
hungry workers gave their attention to the lunch¬ 
eon that the girls had prepared. To have dined 
at school would have prevented the twins and 
Kewpie from being on hand at Miss Comfort’s 
arrival, and they didn’t want to miss that! 

There was plenty to eat, and full justice was 
done to the viands. It was a jolly, happy meal, 
too, for the Pequot Queen looked as none of them 
had ever hoped to see it look, and, as Brose re¬ 
marked, it would look'a sight better before they 
got through with it. “When the awning’s up 
and there’s flowers along the rail there— What 
color’s the awning, Laurie ? ’ ’ 

“Red and white.” 

“Great! And then there ’ll be little window- 
boxes under the two windows on tills side. I’m 
going to paint ’em white with green crisscrosses 



MISS COMFOET COMES ABOAED 233 

on ’em; sort of lattice-effect, yon know. And 
then I was thinking this morning that it would n’t 
be hard to make a little flower-bed on each side 
of the bridge there later. I could plant 
morning-glories or something so’s they’d climb 
along on the hand-rail. And some bright things, 
too, like geraniums or zinnias.” 

“Brose,” exclaimed Laurie, “you ’re a won¬ 
der!” He held aloft a paper cup filled with hot 
chocolate. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you 
Mr. Brose Wilkins, without whose assistance— 
no, directorship this undertaking would have been 
a—but a partial success. To his untiring zeal 
and—er—” 

“There they come!” cried Kewpie excitedly. 

And there they did come, Miss Comfort in her 
best black dress—and probably her only black 
dress—and Mrs. Deane, Miss Comfort at least a 
yard in advance, Mrs. Deane trying hard to re¬ 
cover the distance. Polly jumped to the rail and 
“yoo-hooed” and waved. Miss Comfort heard 
and, it seemed, saw the Pequot Queen for the first 
time. She stopped short and stared from a half- 
block away. Mrs. Deane regained her lost 
ground and stared, too. For a long moment the 



234 NID AND NOD 

two stood motionless there. Then Miss Comfort 
started on again, this time at a funny little half¬ 
trot. Once more Mrs. Deane was outdistanced! 

Polly and Ned and Bob ran across the gang¬ 
way to meet them. The others remained on deck, 
Kewpie grinning broadly, Laurie only half smil¬ 
ing, Mae emitting little whispered ejaculations, 
and Brose, his comforting hammer once more in 
hand, humming a funny sort of tune under his 
breath. Miss Comfort’s face was a study as she 
paused at the end of the gangway and swept the 
scene with rapt gaze. Then, still silent, she de¬ 
clined Ned’s offered assistance and walked firmly 
and proudly across the gangway and stepped 
down upon her own deck! 

It was not until she stood at the cabin door and 
looked inside that the little lady became articu¬ 
late. Then she drew a deep breath and said, 
“Well, I never!” in a voice that was scarcely 
more than a whisper. Then she was inside, with 
the others clustering about her and every one 
talking at once, Polly apologizing for the clock, 
Mae explaining about the what-not, Laurie prom¬ 
ising water for the sink not later than Tuesday, 
Mrs. Deane exclaiming repeatedly to no one in 


MISS COMFORT COMES ABOARD 235 

particular: ‘ ‘ Why, I had no idea! I simply had 
no idea!” 

After a moment or two Miss Comfort seated 
herself in the walnut rocker with the gray horse¬ 
hair upholstering and sighed again. “It’s too 
beautiful for words,’’ she said. She reached out 
for Polly’s hand and drew it to her, patting it 
with little quick gestures. “I never thought it 
would be like this, my dear, never, never! I just 
can’t find any words to thank you all; not now; 
perhaps some day—” She searched for and 
found her tiny black-bordered handkerchief. 
Kewpie frowned and turned toward a window. 
Gee, she was getting leaky again! But, as be¬ 
fore, Laurie provided a diversion. 

“Here’s the fellow that did more than the rest 
of us put together,” he said. Miss Comfort 
looked, and— 

“Why, Brose Wilkins!” she cried. “You, too! 
Why, I did n’t see you!” Brose shook hands, his 
broad smile again threatening his ears. 

“Yes, Miss Pansy, it’s me,” he said. “But 
you don’t want to believe what Laurie tells you. 
I ain’t done much but swing a ha mm er. Now, 
how you feeling, ma’am?” 



236 


NID AND NOD 


“Very happy, Brose,” replied Miss Comfort 
softly. “Happier than a person has any right to 
be at my time of life, I guess. Is n’t it wonder¬ 
ful?” Her gaze swept over the little white room 
with its blue and white curtains aflutter in the 
sunlit breeze and all her friendly belongings 
about. “Doesn’t the picture of grandfather’s 
ship look beautifully there, Brose?” 

Brose agreed that it did. Every one else 
agreed that it did. Secretly, however, Bob, who 
had hung the article, told himself that that repre¬ 
sentation of a barkantine with all sails set plow¬ 
ing through a muddy-green sea had probably 
been done by the village sign-painter! 

After that Miss Comfort arose and minutely in¬ 
spected every inch of her domain, listening to 
Laurie’s somewhat involved explanation of the 
water system not yet installed, to Ned’s story 
of the roof-garden above, to Polly’s reason for 
placing the wash-boiler here and the knife-board 
there, and to Mae’s confidences regarding the 
whereabouts of the linen. Then she was taken 
off along the deck to see where the coal and wood 
were kept. At intervals Laurie took a slip of 
paper from a pocket and surreptitiously wrote 



MISS COMFORT COMES ABOARD 237 


on it. When they reached the boiler-room he 
added the mysterious word “coal scuttle” to sev¬ 
eral other words already on the paper. 

In due course they all returned to the cabin and 
sat or stood around and did a good deal of talk¬ 
ing and exclaiming and laughing until, at last, 
Mrs. Deane jumped up suddenly and announced 
in a shocked voice that she must get right back 
and that she did n’t know what Miss Billings 
would be thinking of her! That began a general 
exodus. Polly said that she and Mae would be 
down after supper to see if everything was all 
right. She had already offered to remain during 
the afternoon, but Miss Comfort had almost 
pathetically declined the offer. Miss Comfort, as 
was evident to all, wanted to be left quite alone 
for a while. 

“You ’re sure you won’t be nervous at night,” 
asked Mrs. Deane anxiously, “all alone here like 
this.” 

“Nervous?” repeated Miss Comfort placidly. 
“Not a bit. No more than I was in that empty 
house up there. I never was one of the scary 
kind, and down here, with the friendly water 
around me, I ’ll never be lonesome again.” 


238 


NID AND NOD 

“I ’ll be looking in now and then,” said Brose. 
“I’m liable to be passing most any time, Miss 
Pansy, and, whenever you want anything just let 
me know.” 

“And to-morrow,” said Mae, “we ’re all com¬ 
ing down to call on you in your new home, Miss 
Comfort.” 

“Do, my dear, do! Come to-morrow after¬ 
noon, and I ’ll make some tea for you. In the 
morning, of course, I ’ll be at church. ’ ’ 

“Church?” said Mrs. Deane. “I wouldn’t try 
it unless I felt real well, my dear. It’s a long 
walk and a real steep one. ’ ’ 

“All the better,” replied Miss Comfort. “All 
my life I’ve lived so close to the church that it 
was n’t any effort at all. Sometimes I think that 
if religion was n’t made so easy for us we’d think 
more of it. ’T won’t do me a mite of harm to 
have to walk a little on a Sunday in order to wor¬ 
ship the Lord. And I guess maybe He will ap¬ 
prove of it.” 

Going back, Laurie, walking beside Polly, said 
with a relieved sigh: “Gee, I was glad to get 
away without having her ask questions, Polly! I 
thought every minute she’d want to know where 


MISS COMFORT COMES ABOARD 239 

everything came from and how we had paid for 
it!” 

“I know,” said Polly thoughtfully. “It’s sort 
of queer she didn’t, too. Because she must 
know that white-enameled sinks and pumps and 
awnings and such things don’t just happen .” 

“Well, I suppose she just doesn’t stop to 
think,” mused Laurie. “And I hope she won’t. 
It would be fierce if she got insulted and went to 
the poor-farm after all!” 

“Oh, she wouldn’t do that!” declared Polly 
in horror. After a moment she added: “I ’ll 
just bet you anything, Laurie, that she did notice 
and that she means to ask! She’s just waiting 
until she can speak to you alone, I believe.” 

Laurie groaned. “Then she’s never going to 
get the chance,” he muttered. Polly looked 
doubtful. 


CHAPTER XIX 


LAURIE IS CORNERED 


Pequot Queen . Mrs. Deane had begged off. One 
mustn’t expect all April days to be fine, and this 
particular day proved it. It had showered off 
and on during the forenoon, and now, at half- 
past three, the rain was coming down hard and 
fast. The girls wore rain-coats over their Sun¬ 
day gowns, and Ned and Laurie were draped in 
colorful yellow oilskins. Bob, in an old Macki¬ 
naw jacket, huddled under the dripping eaves of 
one of the two umbrellas. It seemed a particu¬ 
larly long w 7 ay to the Pequot Queen under these 
circumstances, and it was a rather bedraggled 
quintet that at last filed into the cabin. Once 
there, however, discomforts were forgotten. A 
fire in the stove defied the dampness of the out¬ 
side world; a kettle sang cozily; the white light 

that entered the open windows flashed on pol- 

240 


T HE following afternoon saw the boys, minus 
Kewpie, escorting Polly and Mae to the 


LAURIE IS CORNERED 241 

ished surfaces; and the bowl of flowers on the 
table added a cheerful note of color. And then 
there was the little hostess, all smiles of welcome 
and concerned murmurs over dripping coats and 
wet skirts. 

The coats were laid aside quickly, and the visi¬ 
tors found seats, Polly and Mae occupying the 
same arm-chair, since there were but five chairs 
in the cabin and not even Laurie would have 
thought of sitting on Miss Comfort’s immaculate 
blue and white spread! The lack of a sixth 
chair troubled Miss Comfort considerably. Bob 
pointed out that even had she possessed such a 
thing there would n’t have been room for it and 
some one would have had to sit out on deck! And 
Polly and Mae assured in chorus that they did n’t 
mind sitting together, not one bit. 

Miss Comfort was brimming over with pride 
and happiness. Everything was too wonderful 
for words! And sleep— She held up her hands 
in something almost like consternation. Why, 
she hadn’t slept the way she had slept last night 
for years and years! She had had her supper 
late because she had been so busy fixing things 
up, and then she had sat at the window there for 


242 


NID AND NOD 


a long time watching the lights on the water and 
on the further shore; and suddenly she couldn’t 
keep her eyes open a minute longer, it had seemed, 
and she had gone to bed and fallen right to sleep 
and slept and slept! 

“It was so wonderful lying there and listening 
to the water lapping against the boat that I tried 
my best to keep awake. But I couldn’t. And 
then this morning when I awoke there was a 
beautiful fog and I could hear bells sounding and 
now and then a great, deep fog-horn on some boat. 
It was perfect! From my bed I can look out of 
the windows and see the river, and when the sun 
came out for a little while, quite early, it was 
beautiful!” 

“Yes, ma’am,” agreed Laurie. “For myself, 
I never cared much for fog-horns, but maybe the 
kind they have here are different. I’m awfully 
glad you slept so well, though, and—and like it.” 

“Like it! Oh, Mr. Laurie, I can never, never 
thank you enough for finding this beautiful home 
for me!” 

“Oh, that wasn’t anything,” muttered Laurie. 

“Why, Laurie Turner,” exclaimed Polly, “it 
was wonderful! The rest of us might have 


LAURIE IS CORNERED 243 

passed this boat a thousand times and never 
thought of making it into a—an apartment!’ ’ 

“Please, Polly dear,” Miss Comfort protested, 
“not an apartment! I want it just what it is, a 
boat—my boat. You don’t think, do you”—she 
appealed to Laurie—“that it would do to change 
the name? Of course the Pequot Queen is very 
pretty, but I would so like to call it after grand¬ 
father’s ship there.” Her gaze went to the oil- 
painting on the wall. 

“Don’t see why not,” said Laurie. “All we’d 
have to do would be to paint out the old name. 
What was your grandfather’s ship called, 
ma’am?” 

“The Lydia W. Frye” replied Miss Comfort 
raptly. “He named her after my grandmother. 
She was one of the New Jersey Fryes.” 

Laurie had a slight tit of coughing, which he 
recovered from so abruptly, when he encountered 
Ned’s scowl, that he nearly choked. “A nice 
name,” declared Ned sternly. “I’m sure we 
could change the letters on the bow.” 

“Oh, now I don’t believe I’d want you to go 
to all that trouble,” said Miss Comfort. “I ’ll 
just call it the Lydia W. Frye to myself, and that 



244 NID AND NOD 

will do quite well. Now I’m going to give you 
some tea.” 

There were some cookies and sweet crackers 
with it, and for these the hostess apologized. She 
hadn’t had time to do any baking yet, she ex¬ 
plained, and Brose had got these at the store for 
her last evening. To-morrow, however, she was 
going to get to work, for she had several orders 
that just had to be filled at once. It was after 
the first cup of tea—and it did seem that Miss 
Comfort’s tea was very, very different from any 
other tea, tasting, as Ned put it, like tea instead 
of leather—that Laurie looked inquiringly at his 
brother and Ned nodded and the twins arose and 
stood with their backs to the door. Then Ned 
bowed and announced: “Original poetical com¬ 
position by the Turner Brothers entitled—” 

* _ 

He paused and looked at Laurie. “What is it 
entitled?” he demanded. Laurie shook his head. 

“We forgot to entitle it.” 

“Entitled,” continued Ned, “entitled ‘Ode.’ ” 

Polly clapped delightedly, and Bob inquired 
facetiously, “How much?” The twins bowed in 
unison, and Ned recited the first line and Laurie 
the second, after which they again alternated. 


LAURIE IS CORNERED 


245 


“O Pequot Queen , your stormy voyaging’s o’er. 

No more you ’ll brave the wave’s and wind’s dis¬ 
comfort. 

Here, nestled ’gainst a peaceful, kindly shore, 

You ’re parlor, bedroom, bath for our Miss Comfort!” 

Applause was loud and prolonged. The twins 
bowed repeatedly, their hands on their hearts, 
their eyes languishing gratitude on the apprecia¬ 
tive audience. 

“Why,” exclaimed Miss Comfort, with the tone 
of one making a surprising discovery, “it was 
poetry! ’’ 

“Yes, ma’am,” said Laurie defensively, “but 
we warned you!” 

Miss Comfort looked a trifle puzzled until 
Polly laughingly assured her that she mustn’t 
mind Laurie, that he was always saying silly 
things. Whereupon the little lady said disap¬ 
provingly: “You mustn’t say that, Polly. 
I’m sure Mr. Laurie isn’t silly. Sometimes I 
don’t quite understand him, my dear, but I’m 
sure he isn’t silly !” 

“You ’re a perfect dear!” replied Polly rap¬ 
turously. 

Laurie had seized his cap and Mae’s umbrella. 


246 NID AND NOD 

“Back in five minutes/’ lie said from the door¬ 
way. 

‘ ‘ Hold on! Where are you going ? ’ ’ demanded 
Ned. 

“Got to see Brose Wilkins a minute about— 
about something.” 

“Well, make it peppy,” said Ned. “We ’re 
not going to wait for you long, old son.” 

Laurie’s five minutes was more like fifteen, but 
he returned at last and they said good-by and 
were almost on their way when Miss Comfort 
sent Laurie’s heart down toward his shoes. 
“Mr. Laurie,” she asked apologetically, “I won¬ 
der if you’d mind stopping in to see me for a 
minute to-morrow.” 

“Why—why, no, ma’am,” stammered Laurie. 
“I’d be pleased to.” He exchanged meaning 
glances with Polly. Then Polly asked: “Why 
don’t you stay now, Laurie, if Miss Comfort 
would like you to? We ’ll leave one of the um¬ 
brellas.” 

Laurie viewed her in strong disapproval but 
accepted the situation. “I don’t need any um¬ 
brella, though,” he said sadly. “I’ve got my 
coat, and it is n’t raining so hard now.” He and 


LAURIE IS CORNERED 247 

Miss Comfort watched the others depart, and 
then she motioned to a chair. 

“Wont yon sit down, please?” she asked. 
Lanrie sat down, bnt on the extreme edge of the 
chair as though to lessen the space between him 
and the door. “You see,” Miss Comfort went on 
after a pauso, “I ’ve wanted to ask you ever since 
Wednesday how you were doing all this, but I 
did n’t like to when the others were around. Now 
I do wish you’d tell me, please.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Laurie gulped. “What— 
was it you wanted to know, ma’am?” 

“Why, who has—has met the expense of all 
the changes and improvements you have made 
here, Mr. Laurie.” 

“Oh,” said Laurie. “Oh! Well, you see, 
Miss 'Comfort, we have n’t done so much after all. 
Now, you take that hanging lamp. Mrs. Deane 
had that and wasn’t using it—” 

“Yes, I know about the lamp,” interrupted 
Miss Comfort gently, “but there’s that sink and 
the awning and—and so many, many things.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Laurie glanced longingly at the 
doorway. “Well, now, you’d be surprised how 
little things like that cost. You take that stove- 


248 


NID AND NOD 


piping, Miss Comfort. Maybe you thought that 
was new pipe, but it wasn’t. It was second¬ 
hand. We just shined it up, you see!” Laurie 
waved an all-encompassing hand. *‘Same way 
with the other things—more or less.” 

“That sink is n’t second hand, is it?” she asked. 

“Well, no, ma’am, not the sink.” Laurie 
smiled engagingly. i ‘ But sinks are n’t expen¬ 
sive. I was surprised, honest, I was, ma’am, 
when we got the price on that! Why, seems like 
things don’t cost half what they did a couple of 
years ago!” 

“Mr. Laurie,” said Miss Comfort firmly, sit¬ 
ting very straight in her chair and looking at him 
earnestly, “you shouldn’t try to deceive me. I 
know that you and the others have spent a great 
deal of money, and I’d feel horribly if I thought 
it was all yours. Now, please tell me.” 

“Well—well, it’s like this. We did put in a 
few dollars, Miss Comfort, but not enough to men¬ 
tion, and we were so glad to do it that you 
oughtn’t to care a mite. Then—then two or 
three other folks, grown-ups, you understand, 
wanted - to help out, and there was quite a good 
deal to be done, and so we took the money and 


LAURIE IS CORNERED 


249 


promised not to tell who’d given it. You see, 
Miss Comfort, they wanted to see you comfort¬ 
able here. And they were folks who could afford 
to do it, you know. And so—well, that ’s how it 
was, ” Laurie concluded, observing Miss Comfort 
anxiously. 

4 4 Thank you for telling me,’ ’ she said. 1 i If you 
promised not to divulge the names of the people 
who were so kind, I sha’n’t expect you to. After 
all — 99 But she stopped and was silent a mo¬ 
ment. Then, “I ’ve always said that I would 
never accept charity,” she went on musingly, 
“but—well, I don’t know. Maybe I haven’t any 
right to be proud. Then, somehow, this does n’t 
seem so—so degrading. It seems more like— 
well, just kindness, don’t you think so?” 

“Yes, I do,” agreed Laurie emphatically. 
“And that’s just what it is, ma’am.” 

“I don’t feel about it as I would have a few 
years ago, anyhow,” said Miss Comfort thought¬ 
fully. Then she smiled. 4 ‘Thanks for telling 
me, Laurie. You don’t mind my calling you just 
that, do you? You’ve been so—so— Won't you 
have some more cookies ? ’ ’ 

“No, ma’am, thank you.” Laurie felt that 


250 


NID AND NOD 


after going through the last few minutes he de¬ 
served a whole plate of cookies, but he resisted 
the temptation. Too many cookies weren’t 
good for a fellow who hoped—-sometimes—to be 
a catcher! 

He was so relieved at the outcome of the talk 
that he did n’t realize it was pouring harder than 
it had poured all day until he had turned into 
Ash Street. When he did, he gave up the idea 
of joining the others at the Widow’s and headed 
as straight as Orstead’-s wandering streets would 
let him head for East Hall, arriving there ex¬ 
tremely wet despite his oilskin coat. Sounds told 
him that many of the fellows had already re¬ 
turned, and at the head of the first flight he en¬ 
countered Elk Thurston and his room-mate, Jim 
Hallock, coming down. Halloek said, 4 ‘ Hello, 
Nod,” and then Elk asked: “How’s the great 
pitcher coming on? Going to spring him on us 
pretty soon?” 

Laurie said, “Not for another week or so, 
Elk,” and heard Elk laughing as he and Jim 
went down. 

A little later, when Ned and Kewpie arrived 
in No. 16, Laurie held their undivided attention. 


LAURIE IS CORNERED 


251 


Monday morning and recitations once more. 
Monday afternoon and baseball practice again. 
Things went well on the field, for the candidates 
for -the team had returned with renewed ambi¬ 
tions. Besides, there was a game with Benson 
High School two days later, and that was some¬ 
thing to work for. Laurie managed to hit the 
ball on the nose every time he stood at the batting- 
net, and later on, in the five-inning practice 
game, he caught for an inning and, so far as he 
could discern, didn’t do so badly. 

Back in No. 16 at half-past five, he found 
Kewpie awaiting him, Kewpie looking disheveled, 
weary, but triumphant. “I’ve got it!” he an¬ 
nounced excitedly before Laurie was well through 
the door. “I’ve got the hang of it at last! That 
guy’s a corker, Nod, and he says I ’ll know as 
much about it as he does in another month!” 

“Restrain your enthusiasm, Kewpie,” urged 
Laurie. “No use telling the whole dormitory 
about it. These walls aren’t awfully thick, and 
I can hear Elk tramping around up-stairs like a 
hippopotamus right now.” But Laurie looked 
very much pleased and settled himself to hear 
Kewpie’s gladsome tidings. And when Ned came 


252 


NID AND NOD 


in a little later he heard them all over again, and 
after Kewpie had reluctantly torn himself away 
the twins agreed that, even allowing for a slight 
exaggeration of the facts as set forth by their 
late visitor, stock in the Association for the Recla¬ 
mation of Kewpie Proudtree had advanced many 
points. The next afternoon the lady members of 
that association were also taken into the secret, 
and there was much rejoicing. 

Polly and Mae learned the news at Bob’s tennis 
tea, for that long heralded affair was at last tak¬ 
ing place. The court was finished and marked, 
the new creamy-white net was up, and, near at 
hand, a wicker table bore the paraphernalia of 
afternoon tea. Practice kept Laurie away until 
well after five, and Kewpie was missing for a 
time, too, but Ned and George Watson and Hop 
Kendrick and Hal Pringle and half a dozen other 
boys were there from the start. The gentler sex 
was represented by Polly, Mae, and Bob’s aunt, 
the latter presiding at the tea-table. Bob beat 
George Watson, 6 to 4, in an exhibition set, and 
then Mae and Hal Pringle played Polly and Hop 
Kendrick. After that there was tea and sand¬ 
wiches and cake, and then Bob took on Hal and 


LAURIE IS CORNERED 


253 


Lee, and the set went to 9 to 7 before Bob finally 
broke through on Hop’s service and won. The 
court was all that Bob’s fondest hope had pic¬ 
tured. Mr. Starling arrived before the party 
broke up and went through three games with Mae 
to the delight of the audience, by that time swelled 
with the arrival of Kewpie and Laurie. 

Benson won from Hillman’s the next afternoon, 
13 to 7. The home team played rather ragged 
ball in the field, although the pitching of George 
Pemberton and Nate Beedle was satisfactory 
enough. Nate relieved Pemberton in the fifth in¬ 
ning, too late to prevent three runs that put the 
visitors well in the lead. Laurie saw the game 
from the bench, for Cas Bennett wore the mask 
from start to finish. 

On Saturday afternoon Hillman’s met Tudor 
Hall School and played a much steadier game. 
The Blue dislodged the opposing pitcher in the 
third inning and put the game safely away with 
six runs. Later four more were added, and the 
total of ten was more than enough to win, even 
though Tudor Hall staged a rally in the first of 
the ninth and hit Croft, who had succeeded Pem¬ 
berton in the seventh, to all corners of the field 


254 


NID AND NOD 


and got three runners across the plate before 
Pat Browne, in right field, pulled down a fly 
and ended the fracas. Again Laurie was a non- 
combatant, although Elk Thurston caught during 

i ’• hfmH 

the final two innings and behaved rather well 
during that hectic ninth. 

The following afternoon Ned, as self-appointed 
secretary and treasurer, rendered an accounting 
of the Pequot Queen fund, showing a balance in 
the treasury of $1.42. All bills had been paid, 
and the question of disposing of the balance came 
before the meeting. Kewpie’s suggestion was 
typical. 

“Pay it to Miss Comfort,” he said, “and we ’ll 
trade it out in cake! ’’ 

“It isn’t ours,” Ned reminded him sternly. 
“Besides it’s not for you to be thinking of cake, 
old dear.” 

It was Polly’s suggestion that was finally 
adopted. They would give the vast sum to Brose 
Wilkins to be used for the purchase of flower- 
seeds for the boxes and beds. That momentous 
question settled, they set forth to call at the 
Pequot Queen, or, as Laurie reminded them they 
should now call the boat, the Lydia IF. Frye . 


LAURIE IS CORNERED 


255 


April became May, and the Hillman’s School 
nine went on playing Wednesday and Saturday 
games, losing not quite as often as it won. Laurie 
twice donned the mask in contests and did as 
well, perhaps a bit better, than he had expected 
to. He did very well at receiving the ball from 
the pitcher, and he was remarkably steady at all 
times, but he was weak when it came to holding 
the runners on bases, his heaves to second being 
erratic, to say the least. At bat, however, he was 
improving fast, and when May was a fortnight 
old there was not much to choose between him and 
Elk Thurston as a catcher, although possibly the 
latter’s greater age and size inspired more con¬ 
fidence. Perhaps -Coach Mulford thought so, for 
Elk was given more chances than Laurie behind 
the bat. 

When Hillman’s went to play Benson, most of 
the school accompanied the team. Polly and Mao 
went, too, escorted by Ned and George Watson. 
Hillman’s won, but not until the tenth inning, and 
then by 3 to 2. Nate Beedle pitched fine ball that 
day. Hillman’s returned to Orstead tired but 
happy. 

Just a week later Polly celebrated her sixteenth 


256 


NID AND NOD 


birthday with a party attended by Mae, Ned, Bob, 
Kewpie, and, since the affair was held in the fore¬ 
noon, Laurie. And, of course, Mrs. Deane was 
present. Miss Comfort had been invited and in 
lieu of her presence had provided a gorgeous 
birthday cake. Antoinette, wearing a new pink 
ribbon that exactly matched her pink nose and 
ears, and Towser, the cat, may also said to have 
attended. Polly received many presents and was 
very bright of eye and very happy. 

The celebration continued in the afternoon 
when the entire party attended the game with 
Cole’s School, although, Laurie, of course, did 
not sit with the others in the stand but watched 
the nine tragic innings from the bench. Nate 
Beedle had a bad day; Croft, who succeeded him, 
was far worse; and Pemberton alone of the pitch¬ 
ing staff showed any class. Pemberton got 
through the final two innings without allowing a 
hit, but the damage was already done. Cole’s 
won by the scandalous score of 16 to 3! Polly 
remarked, a trifle unreasonably, that she thought, 
since it was her birthday, Hillman’s might have 
won! 

Rain caused the cancellation of the game with 


LAURIE IS CORNERED 257 

Highland the next Wednesday, and Lanrie ac¬ 
companied Kewpie on his mysterious pilgrimage 
to the home of Brose Wilkins. Those pil¬ 
grimages had been made daily, excepting Sun¬ 
day for about a month now, and never once, 
rain or shine, had Kewpie sought to avoid them. 
Whatever it was that kept the two boys on the 
dilapidated Wilkins premises for more than an 
hour this Wednesday afternoon, it must have 
been something important, for the rain never 
ceased for a moment during that time, and, know¬ 
ing Kewpie as we do, it seems fair to assume 
that only an important mission could have kept 
him from the snug window-seat of No. 15 East 
Hall on such a day. 

Returning, their way took them within a few 
yards of the Pequot Queen. The river beyond 
looked gray and sullen; the rain was falling stead¬ 
ily and remorselessly; the new paint of the trans¬ 
formed ferryboat gleamed with moisture. But 
from the smoke-pipe in the roof a cheerful trail of 
gray ascended, and at the windows the blue and 
white curtains shone cozily. Once they saw the 
small, erect form of Miss Comfort, white-aproned, 
pass a casement and, or so Kewpie solemnly 



258 


NID AND NOD 


averred, heard the sound of a faintly sung song. 
There was such an atmosphere of warmth and 
hominess and cheer about the quaint abode that 
Kewpie lagged noticeably and would have wel¬ 
comed a suggestion from his companion that 
they stop a moment and say “Hello” to the 
occupant. But it was close to supper-time and 
Laurie went sternly on, refusing to notice 
Kewpie’s deep sigh. 

They reached the entrance of the dormitory 
just as Ned got there. Ned carried his golf-bag 
and was very wet indeed. Laurie viewed him 
commiseratingly. “You poor forlorn fish,” he 
said. “Don’t tell me you’ve been playing golf 
a day like this!” 

“Sure have,” answered Ned cheerfully. 
“Won, too. Had Peyton three up on the seventh, 
too, old son.” 

“Well, you certainly are a nut! Did n’t either 
of you know it was raining?” 

“Didn’t you?” countered Ned. “Look at 
your own shoes!” 

“We,” replied Laurie with dignity, “were 
engaged in a sensible and important occupation, 
not merely amusing ourselves!” 


LAURIE IS CORNERED 259 

“Were, eh?” Ned grinned. “What important 
part did you play in it?” 

“I,” began Laurie, “contributed my—er— 
my—” 

“He chased the ball,” chuckled Kewpie as ho 
disappeared to No. 15, 



CHAPTER XX 


THE TRY-OUT 

B Y the first of June Hillman’s baseball team 
had settled into its stride. Four suc¬ 
cessive victories had restored the confidence of 
players and adherents alike, and the final test of 
the season, the game with Farview Academy, 
played this year at Orstead, was being viewed 
in prospect with less apprehension. Laurie had 
somewhat solved the science of throwing to 
bases from the plate and was running a very 
even race with Elk Thurston, a fact that did 
nothing to increase the entente cordiale between 
those two. Elk seldom missed an opportunity 
to make himself disagreeable to his rival, and 
since Elk was both older and bigger, and pos¬ 
sessed also the prestige of being a member of the 
upper-middle class, Laurie had to keep his 
temper many times when he didn’t want to. 
After all, though, Elk’s offenses weren’t impor¬ 
tant enough to have excused serious reprisals. 

260 


THE TRY-OUT 


261 


He made fun of the younger boy and “ragged” 
him when he was at work. Sometimes he got a 
laugh from his audience, but more often he 
didn’t, for his humor was a bit heavy. His 
antagonism was largely personal, for he did not 
accept Laurie seriously as a rival. 

He liked best of all to tease the other on the 
score of the latter’s failure to make good his 
boast of transforming the impossible Kewpie 
Proudtree into a pitcher. Elk, like about every 
one else, had concluded that Laurie had given 
up that task in despair. But whereas the others 
had virtually forgotten the amusing episode, Elk 
remembered and dwelled on it whenever oppor¬ 
tunity presented. That Laurie failed to react 
as Elk expected him to annoyed him considerably. 
Laurie always looked cheerfully untroubled by 
gibes on that subject. Any one but Elk would 
have recognized failure and switched to a more 
certain method, but Elk was not very quick of 
perception. 

On a Saturday soon after the beginning of the 
month the Blue met Loring in a game remarkable 
for coincidences. Each team made eleven hits 
and eleven runs in the eleven innings that were 


262 


NID AND NOD 


played—errors and brilliant plays alternating. 
George Pemberton started for Hillman’s but gave 
way to Nate Beedle in the second. Elk caught 
the final two innings in creditable style, and 
Laurie again looked on from the bench. 

On the following Monday afternoon Laurie 
laid in wait for Mr. Mulford on the gymnasium 
steps. “We ’re ready for that try-out whenever 
you are, sir,” he announced. 

“Eh? What try-out is that?” asked the 
coach. 

“Proudtree’s, sir. You know you said you’d 
give him one.” 

“Proudtree? Why I understood he’d quit 
long ago!” 

“No, sir, he didn’t quit. He’s been practising 
at least an hour every day, except Sundays, for 
more than two months.” 

“He has? Well, well! And you think he can 
pitch some, do you?” 

“Yes, sir,” answered Laurie firmly. 

“All right. Now, let’s see. I don’t believe 
I ’ll have time to look at him to-day, Turner. 
How about to-morrow morning?” 



THE TRY-OUT 263 

“Tuesday7 He hasn’t anything from eleven 
fifteen to twelve, sir.” 

“Good. Tell him to be over at the field at 
eleven twenty. You ’ll catch for him? I hope 
this is n’t just a flivver, my boy, for from present 
indications we ’re going to need pitchers next 
year.” 

“Wouldn’t we be able to use another this 
year, if we had him?” asked Laurie, grinning. 
Mr. Mulford smiled responsively. 

“Hm, we might, and that’s a fact,” he 
acknowledged. “Well, have your champion on 
hand to-morrow morning, Turner.” He hurried 
on into the gymnasium, and, after a thoughtful 
stare into space, Laurie followed him. 

“Next year!” scoffed Kewpie when, after 
practice, Laurie reported the gist of his talk 
with the coach. “He’s crazy! What’s the 
matter with this year? I ’ll bet you I can pitch 
as good ball as Orville Croft right now.” 

“And that wouldn’t be saying much, either,” 
assented Laurie. 

“Well, they ’ve got him on the team,” grum¬ 
bled Kewpie. “Pinky’s got a nerve if he thinks 


264 


NID AND NOD 


I’m going to wait around for a whole year after 
the way I ’ve been working all spring!” 

“Yes, he ain’t so well in his nerve,” mused 
Laurie. “Ought to see a doctor about—” 

“Well, didn’t you tell him I wanted to play 
this year?” demanded Kewpie impatiently. 
Laurie shook his head. 

“No, you see, dear old lad, I didn’t want to 
overtax his brain. You know how these base¬ 
ball coaches are. They can wrestle with one 
idea, but when it comes to two at the same 
time—” Laurie shrugged eloquently. Kewpie 
viewed him doubtfully. 

“Oh, shut up,” he said, grinning. “Well, 
anyway, he’s got to give me a chance with the 
team this year. If he doesn’t he won’t get me 
next. ’ ’ 

“I ’ll mention that to him to-morrow,” re¬ 
plied the other soberly. “I dare say if we take 
a firm attitude with him he will come around. 
Well, eleven twenty, then. I ’ll wait for you in 
front.” 

“In front” at Hillman’s meant the steps of 
School Hall or their immediate vicinity, and on 
the steps the two met the next forenoon. Laurie 



THE TRY-OUT 


265 


had brought his mitten, and Kewpie had his 
glove and a ball in his pockets. On the way 
along Summit Street to the athletic held, which 
was a quarter of a mile to the south, Kewpie was 
plainly nervous. He didn’t have much to say, 
but at intervals he took the ball from his pocket, 
curved his heavy fingers about it, frowned, 
sighed and put it away again. 

'Mr. Mulford was awaiting them, and Kewpie, 
for one, was glad to see that he was alone. 
After greetings the boys laid aside their coats, 
and Kewpie rolled his shirt-sleeves up. Mr. 
Mulford seated himself on a bench near the 
batting-net, crossed his knees and waited. His 
attitude and general demeanor told Laurie that 
he was there to fulfill a promise rather than in the 
expectation of being thrilled. 

1 ‘Start easy,” counseled Laurie. “Don’t try 
to pitch until you ’ve tossed a few, Kewpie.” 

Kewpie nodded, plainly very conscious of the 
silent figure on the bench. He wound up slowly, 
caught sight of Laurie’s mitten held palm out¬ 
ward in protest, and dropped his arms, frowning. 

“Yes,” said Mr. Mulford, “better start slow, 
Proudtree.” 


266 


NID AND NOD 


Kewpie tossed five or six balls into Laurie’s 
mitt without a wind-up and between tosses 
stretched and flexed the muscles of his stout 
arm. 

“All right,” said Laurie finally. He crouched 
and signaled under the mitten. Kewpie shook 
his head. 

“I don’t know your signals,” he objected. 

“You tell me what vou want.” 

«/ 

“Pitch some straight ones,” suggested the 
coach. 

Kewpie obliged. His stand in the box and his 
wind-up were different from what they had been 
when Laurie had last caught him. Considering 
his build, Kewpie’s appearance and movements 
were easy and smooth. He had a queer habit of 
bringing the pitching hand back close to the left 
thigh after the delivery, which, while novel, was 
rather impressive. Kewpie’s deliveries were 
straight enough to please any one, but Mr. Mul- 
ford called: 

“Speed them up, son. You’d never get past 
the batsman with those!” 

Kewpie shot the ball away harder. Laurie 
returned it and thumped his mitt encouragingly. 


THE TRY-OUT 267 

11 That ’s the stuff, Kewpie! Steam ’em up! 
Now then!” 

Kewpie pitched again and once more. Mr. 
Mulford spoke. “You haven’t any speed, 
Proudtree,” he said regretfully. “The weakest 
hatter on the scrub could whang those out for 
home runs. Got anything else?” 

Kewpie had recovered his assurance now. 
“Sure,” he answered untroubledly. “What do 
you want?” 

Mr. Mulford replied a trifle tartly. “I want 
to see anything you’ve got that looks like 
pitching. I certainly haven’t seen anything 
yet!” 

“Curve some,” said Laurie. 

Kewpie fondled the ball very carefully, wound 
up, and pitched. The result was a nice out-shoot 
that surprised even Laurie, who nearly let it get 
past him into the net. “That’s pitching, “he 
called. “Let’s have another.” 

Kewpie sent another. Mr. Mulford arose from 
the bench and took up a position behind the net. 
“Let’s have that out-curve again,” he com¬ 
manded. Kewpie obeyed. “All right,” said the 
coach. “Not bad. Try a drop.” 


268 


NID AND NOD 


Kewpie’s first attempt went wrong, but the 
next one sailed to the plate a little more than 
knee-high and then sought to bury itself in the 
dust. Laurie heard the coach grunt. A third 
attempt attained a similar result. “What else 
have you got?” asked Mr. Mulford. Laurie de¬ 
tected a note of interest at last. 

“Dot an in-shoot,” replied Kewpie with all of 
his accustomed assurance, “and a sort of floater.” 

“Show me,” answered the coach. 

The in-shoot was just what it’s name implied, 
and Kewpie presented two samples of it. The 
“floater,” however, was less impressive, al¬ 
though Laurie thought to himself that it might 
prove a hard ball to hit if offered after a curve. 
Mr. Mulford grunted again. “Now pitch six 
balls, Proudtree,” he said, “and mix ’em up.” 

Kewpie pitched an out, a straight drop, an 
out-drop, a straight ball, an in, and a “floater.” 

“That’s enough,” said Mr. Mulford to Laurie. 
“Come over to the bench.” Laurie dropped the 
ball in his pocket, signaled to Kewpie, and 
followed the coach. Kewpie ambled up inquir¬ 
ingly. “Sit down, son,” said Mr. Mulford. 
Then, “Where’d you learn that stuff?” he asked. 


THE TRY-OUT 


269 


With Laurie’s assistance, Kewpie told him. 

1 i Wilkins, ’ ’ mused the coach. 1 ‘ Must have been 
the year before I took hold here. I don’t remem¬ 
ber any game with High School in which we got 
licked that badly. He must be all he says he is, 
though, if he can teach any one else to pitch that 
stuff. Well, I’m not going to tell you you ’re a 
Christy Mathewson, Proudtree, for you’ve got a 
long way to go yet before you ’ll be getting any 
medals. I guess I don’t have to tell you that 
you aren’t built quite right for baseball, eh?” 

“Oh, I’m down to a hundred and fifty-four,” 
answered Kewpie calmly, “and I’m not so slow 
as I look.” 

“I don’t mean your weight,” said the coach, 
suppressing a smile. “I mean your build. You ’ll 
have to work just about twice as hard as Beedle 
would, for instance, to get the same result. 
You ’re—well, you ’re just a little bit too close- 
coupled, son!” 

“I’ve seen fellows like me play mighty good 
baseball,” said Kewpie. 

“I dare say. If you have, you’ve seen them 
work mighty hard at it! Well, I’m not trying 
to discourage you. I’m only telling you this to 


270 


NID AND NOD 


impress you with the fact—and it is a fact, Proud- 
tree—that you 11 have to buckle down and work 
mighty earnestly if you want to be a really ca¬ 
pable pitcher next year.” 

1 ‘ Well, what about—” Kewpie glanced flittingly 
at Laurie—“what about this year, sir?” 

Laurie saw the coach’s gaze waver. “Thi,s 
year?” he echoed. “Why, I don’t know. We ’re 
fixed pretty well this year, you see. Of course 
I’m perfectly willing to let you work with the 
crowd for the rest of the season. Pitching to the 
net will teach you a whole lot, for you can’t judge 
your stuff until you’ve got some ambitious chap 
swinging at it. Some of that stuff you’ve just 
showed me would be candy for a good hitter. 
You’ve got one weakness, Proudtree, and it’s an 
important one. You haven’t speed, and I don’t 
believe you ’ll have it. That’s your build; no 
fault of yours, of course.” 

“I know that,” agreed Kewpie, “hut Brose 
Wilkins says I don’t need speed. He says I’ve 
got enough without it. He says there are heaps 
of mighty good pitchers in the Big League that 
can’t pitch a real fast ball to save their lives!” 

“Maybe, but you ’re not a candidate for the Big 



THE TEY-OUT 


271 


League yet. If you Ve ever watched school-boy 
baseball, you ’ve seen that what they can’t hit, 
five times out of seven, is a really fast ball. They 
like to say they can, and I guess they believe it, 
but they can’t. Maybe one reason is that they 
don’t often get fast ones, for there aren’t many 
youngsters of your age who can stand the strain 
of pitching them. Mind, I don’t say that you 
won’t be able to get by without more speed than 
you’ve got, but I do say that not having speed 
is a weakness. I’m emphasizing this because I 
want you to realize that you’ve got to make your 
curves mighty good to make up for that shortcom¬ 
ing/’ 

‘ ‘ Yes, sir, ’ ’ replied Kewpie almost humbly. ‘ 4 1 
understand.” 

“Good. Now, then, let’s see. Oh, yes, about 
that ball you call a ‘floater.’ Did Wilkens teach 
you that?” 

“No, sir, I—I got that out of a book. It—it 
isn’t as good as it might be, I guess, but I’m 
getting the hang of it, sir.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t monkey with it just now. 
It’s a hard ball to pitch—hard on the muscles. 
You don’t want too many things. If I were you. 


272 


NID AND NOD 


son, I’d stick • to the curves and drops. That 
out-drop of yours is n ’t so bad right now, and 
I guess you can make it even better. If you have 
five things to offer the batter, say, an in, an out, 
a drop, a drop-curve, and a slow ball, you’ve got 
plenty. If you Ve got control and can change 
your pace without giving yourself away you Ve 
got as much as the most successful pitcher ever 
did have. It’s control, son, that counts. All the 
fancy stunts ever known are n ’t worth a cent un¬ 
less you can put the ball where you want it to go. 
And that’s that. ” 

There was a moment of silence. Then Kewpie 
said: “Mr. Mulford, if I work hard and pitch to 
the net and all that could n’t I get into a game 
some time? I mean some game this spring?” 

“Why, I don’t know,” said the coach slowly. 
“What’s the idea? Want to get your letter?” 

“No, sir, but I’d—why, I’d just like to, sir, 
awfully” 

“There are only four games left before the Far- 
view game,” was the answer, “and I don’t want 
to promise anything like that, Proudtree. But 1 
will agree to put you in if the chance comes. Look 
here, you chaps, why don’t you work together 


THE TRY-OUT 273 

and get to know each other? There’s a lot in 
the pitcher and catcher being used to each 
other’s ways. Then, perhaps, I can give yon 
both a whack at a couple of innings some day. 
I ? d do that, I think. Yon look after Prondtree, 
Turner. Make him work. Keep his nose to the 
grindstone. Remember that there’s another 
year coming, eh?” 

“I ’ll make him work,” laughed Laurie. 

“'Then do I—do I get on the team?” asked 
Kewpie anxiously. 

“You get on the squad,” was the answer. 
“Report to-morrow afternoon. There’s a game 
on, and you won T get much work, but you can 
pitch to Turner a while and learn the ropes. 
Let’s get back now.” Coach Mulford arose. 
“Turner, I suspected that you were going to 
waste my time this morning, but I was wrong. 
Your dark horse looks to me well worth the 
grooming!” 

He set off across the field toward the gridiron 
on a short cut to the village, and the two boys 
walked back to school. For the first dozen paces 
nothing was said. Then Kewpie laughed and 
turned to his companion. “Told you I’d do it!” 


274 


NID AND NOD 


he exclaimed triumphantly. “Told you I could 
pitch ball as well as the rest of them! Didn’t I, 
now!” 

“You told me a lot of things, you poor 
cheese,” answered Laurie crushingly, “but 
where’d you be if Ned and I hadn’t managed 
you? I ’ll tell you. You’d still be lying on 
your window-seat, like a fat seal, reading ‘How 
to Pitch’!” 

“Huh, is that so? I guess if it comes to that, 
you fat-head, Brose Wilkins is the guy—” 

“He sure is,” agreed Laurie, “he sure is! 
And, prithee, you half-baked portion of nothing 
at all, w T ho discovered Brose? Who persuaded 
him to waste his time on a big, fut lummox like 
you ? ’ ’ 

“Well, anyway,” replied Kewpie, quite un¬ 
affected by the insults, “neither you nor Ned nor 
Brose Wilkins could have made a pitcher out of 
me if I had n’t had the—the ability! ’ ’ 

“You ain’t so well in your ability,” said 
Laurie scathingly. “All you’ve got is a start, 
old son, and so don’t get to thinking that you ’re 
a Big Leaguer! Maybe with prayer and hard, 
work I ’ll make you amount to something by 


THE TRY-OUT 275 

next year, but right now yon ’re nothing but a 
whispered promise!” 

“Oh, is that so?” said Kewpie, and again, “Is 
that so?” He wasn’t qnick at repartee, and 
just then that was the best he could do. 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE DEAD LETTER 

A LTHOUGH Kewpie made no secret of his 
acceptance on the baseball team, in fact 
gave a certain amount of publicity to the fact, 
his appearance on the diamond the next after¬ 
noon created a distinct sensation. Aware of the 
sensation, Kewpie became suddenly taciturn, and 
when he did speak he clothed his words in 
mystery. Laurie, seeing an opportunity to ren¬ 
der Kewpie’s advent more spectacular, seized it. 
During Craigskill’s practice on the diamond the 
Hillman’s pitchers warmed up in front of the 
first base stand. Beedle and Pemberton pitched 
to Cas Bennett and Elk Thurston. As Croft 
was not to be used, Laurie’s services were not 
required, and he sat on the bench. But when the 
opportunity was glimpsed he arose, picked a ball 
from the old water-bucket, drew on his mitten, 
and signaled to Kewpie. Then he took his 

place beyond Cas, and Kewpie ambled to a 

276 


THE DEAD LETTER 


277 


station beside Nate Beedle, and a ripple ot 
incredulous delight ran the length of the bench. 
Kewpie tossed a ball into Laurie’s mitten, and 
the bench applauded with a note of hysteria. 
Not until then did Coach Mulford, who had been 
talking to the manager, become aware of the 
fact that something of interest was taking place. 
He looked, saw, stared. Then the ends of his 
mouth went up a little, tiny puckers appeared at 
the corners of his eyes, and he chuckled softly. 
Around him the players and substitutes were 
laughing uproariously. They had reason, it 
seemed. The sight of the short and rotund 
Kewpie in juxtaposition to the tall and slender 
Beedle might have brought a smile to the face 
of a wooden statue. But Kewpie seemed un¬ 
aware of the amusement he was causing. He 
pitched his slow balls into Laurie’s mitt gravely 
enough, finishing his delivery with his hand close 
to his left side, as though, as one facetious ob¬ 
server put it, a mosquito demanded attention. 

Laurie laughed inwardly, but outwardly his 
expression and demeanor were as sober and 
as earnest as Kewpie’s. Mr. Mulford’s coun¬ 
tenance showed him that that gentleman ap- 


278 


NID AND NOD 


predated the humor of the inddent and that 
he was to be allowed to “get away with it.” Be¬ 
side him, Elk Thurston’s face was angry and 
sneering. 

“Some pitcher you’ve got,” he said, speaking 
from the corner of his mouth. “You and he 
make a swell battery, Turner.” Then, as he 
sped the ball back to Nate, he called: “Guess it’s 
all up with you, Nate. See what the cat brought 
in!” 

Nate smiled but made no answer. 

Then Hillman’s trotted out on the diamond, 
and the pitchers retired to the bench. Laurie 
chose a seat well removed from Mr. Mulford, and 
Kewpie sank down beside him. Kewpie was 
chuckling almost soundlessly. “Did you see 
Elk’s face!” he murmured. “Gee!” 

Laurie nodded. “He’s awfully sore. He 
thought we’d given up, you know, and when he 
caught sight of you coming out of the gym his 
eyes almost popped out of his head. There’s 
Ned over there in the stand, and George and the 
girls. Say, Kewpie, you’ve just got to get into 
a game before the season’s over or I ’ll be 
eternally disgraced!” 


THE DEAD LETTER 279 

“I ’ll make it,” answered Kewpie comfortably. 
“You beard what he said.” 

i 

“Yes, but he did n’t make any promise. 
That’s what’s worrying me. Wonder how it 
would be to drop poison in Nate’s milk some day. 
Or invite him to ride in Mr. Wells’s roadster 
and run him into a telegraph-pole!” It was the 
sight of Mr. Wells coming around the corner of 
the stand that had put the latter plan into his 
head. 4 ‘ Got to manage it somehow, ’ ’ he ended. 

“That’s all right,” said Kewpie. “Don’t you 
worry about it. He ’ll give me a chance soon. 
He didn’t say much yesterday, Nod, but I could 
see that he was impressed.” 

“You could, eh?” Laurie viewed the other 
admiringly. “Say, you just hate yourself, don’t 
you?” 

Craigskill Military College took a three-run 
lead in the first inning and maintained it through¬ 
out the remaining eight innings. The game was 
mainly a pitchers’ battle, with the enemy tvirler 
having rather the better of the argument, and, 
from the point of view of the onlooker, was 
decidedly slow and uninteresting. Kewpie’s 
presence on the bench supplied a welcome diver- 


280 NID AND NOD 

sion at such times as Hillman’s was at bat. 
Almost every one liked Kewpie, and his perform¬ 
ance as center of the football team had com¬ 
manded respect, but he came in for a whole lot 
of good-natured raillery that afternoon. So, too, 
did Laurie. And neither of them minded it. 
Elk glowered and slid in sarcastic comments 
when chance afforded, but they could afford to 
disregard him. 

When the game was over the substitutes held 
practice, and the few spectators who remained 
were rewarded for their loyalty if only by the 
spectacle of Kewpie Proudtree sliding to first 
during base-running practice! Kewpie at bat was 
another interesting spectacle, for there was a 
very great deal he didn’t know about bat¬ 
ting despite having played scrub ball to some 
extent. But Kewpie believed firmly in Kewpie, 
laughed with the others at his own expense, and 
stored up knowledge. He was, however, heartily 
glad when the brief session came to an end, for 
some of the requirements had been extremely 
novel to him. 

Saturday’s game, played down the river at 
Melrose Perry, resulted in a ten-inning victory 


i 


THE DEAD LETTER 


281 


for Hillman’s. To his surprise and chagrin, 
Kewpie was not taken with the team, hut he went 
along nevertheless and viewed the contest with 
ironical gaze from a seat in the stand. It is 
probable that he felt no consuming grief when, 
in the fifth inning, Nate Beedle was forced to 
give way to Pemberton. It i*s equally likely that 
he would have managed to dissemble his sorrow 
had Pemberton been knocked out of the box and 
a despairing coach had called loudly for “Proud- 
tree! Find Proudtree! We must have him! 
He alone can avert defeat!” Nothing of that 
sort happened, though. George Pemberton fin¬ 
ished the game nicely, even bringing in one of 
Hillman’s four runs with a safe hit to the left in 
the eighth. It remained to Captain Dave himself, 
however to secure the victory in the tenth inning 
with a home run. Returning to Orstead, Kewpie 
attached himself to Laurie and was very critical 
of the team’s performance. Laurie, who had 
pinch-hit for Murdock in the eighth and had 
popped up a weak in-field fly, was gloomy enough 
to relish the conversation until Kewpie became 
too caustic. Then Laurie sat on him cruelly and 
informed him that instead of “panning” the 


282 


NID AND NOD 


team he had better be thinking up some way of 
persuading Pinky to let him pitch a couple of 
innings in one or other of the two games that 
remained before the Farview contest. There¬ 
upon Kewpie subsided and gazed glumly from 
the car window. His chance of pitching for the 
team that season didn’t appear so bright to him 
to-day. 

Sunday afternoon they took their accustomed 
walk, Polly, Mae, Ned, Laurie, and Bob, and as 
usual they stopped for a while at the Pequot 
Queen. The afternoon was fair and warm, and 
the Pequot Queen —or the Lydia W. Frye , if you 
prefer—made a very attractive picture. The 
new white paint and the golden yellow trim were 
still fresh, the gay red and white awning 
stretched above the upper deck, the flower-boxes 
were green and promising—there was even one 
pink geranium bloom in sight—and the beds 
that Brose "Wilkins had made at each side of the 
gangway were filled with plants. Miss Comfort 
wore an almost frivolous dress of blue with white 
figures and her best cameo pin, the one nearly 
as large as a butter-chip, that showed a cheerful 
design of weeping willow-tree and a tombstone. 


THE DEAD LETTER 


283 


A yellow and white cat sat sunning itself on the 
railing and submitted indifferently to the caresses 
of the visitors. The cat was a gift from Brose, 
and Miss Comfort who had lived some sixty-odd 
years without such a thing, had not had sufficient 
courage to decline it. She had however, much 
to her surprise, grown very much attached to the 
animal as she frequently stated. She had named 
it Hector. 

To-day Miss Comfort had news for them. The 
letter she had written to her brother-in-law in 
Sioux City had returned. She handed it around 
the circle. It had been opened, and its envelope 
bore an amazing number of inscriptions, many 
undecipherable, the gist of them being that Mr. 
A. G. Goupil had not been found. The missive 
had now been sent back by the Dead Letter 
Office in Washington. It was, Miss Comfort 
declared, very perplexing. Of course, she had 
always written to her sister at her home address 
but the firm name was just as she had told it. 

“He might have moved away,” suggested Bob, 
“after your sister died.” 

Miss Comfort agreed that that was possible, 
but Laurie said that in that case he would 


284 NID AND NOD 

certainly have left an address behind him, add¬ 
ing, “Well, if he didn’t get that letter he 
probably didn’t get our telegram, either!” 

“Why, that’s so,” said Polly. “But wouldn’t 
they send that back, too, if it was n’t delivered?” 

“I reckon so. I ’ll ask about it to-morrow at 
the office. Maybe you should have put the 
street and number on your letter, Miss Comfort.” 

“Why, I never knew it. That’s the address 
my sister sent me. I supposed it was all that 
was necessary.” 

“It ought to be enough,” said Bob. “How 
big’s this Sioux City place, anyway? Seems to 
me they ought to have been able to find the 
Goupil Machinery Company, even if they didn’t 
have the street address.” 

“Well,” said Miss Comfort, “I’m relieved to 
get it back. I thought it was strange that Mr. 
Goupil didn’t take any notice of it. Now I 
know it was because he never received it. You 
see.” 

“Tell you what we might do,” offered Laurie. 
“We might find out Mr. Goupil’s address from the 
lawyers who wrote you about it and then you 
could write to him again, ma’am.” 


THE DEAD LETTER 


285 


“Oh I shouldn’t care to do that,” replied 
Miss Comfort. “I’m settled so nicely here now, 
you see, Laurie. In a great many ways it is 
better for me than my other home was. There 
were so many rooms there to keep clean, and 
then, in winter, there were the sidewalks to he 
looked after, and the pipes would freeze now and 
then. No, I think everything has turned out 
quite for the best, just as it generally does, my 
dears.” 

“Just the same,” quoth Laurie as they re¬ 
turned up the hill past the telegraph office, “I’m 
going in there to-morrow and find out what 
happened to that message we sent.” 

“That’s right,” assented Bob. “They ought 
to give us our money back, anyway!” 

They learned the fate of the message without 
difficulty the following morning, although they 
had to make two calls at the office. On the second 
occasion the manager displayed a telegram from 
Sioux City. Laurie’s message had been deliv¬ 
ered to A. T. Gompers, Globe Farm Machinery 
Company, Sioux City. The date and even the 
time of day were supplied. At first the manager 
appeared to consider Laurie and Ned over- 


286 


NID AND NOD 


particular, but finally acknowledged that perhaps 
a mistake had been made. If, he said, the sender 
cared to put in a claim the company would take 
up the matter and make a thorough investiga¬ 
tion, and if it found there really had been an 
error in delivery the price of the telegram would 
be refunded. But Laurie shook his head. 

“We ’re a short-lived family,” he explained. 
“Few of us Turners live to be over eighty, and 
so I guess there wouldn’t be time. Thank you 
just as much.” 

“What it amounts to,” said Ned, as they 
hurried back to a recitation, “is that Miss 
Comfort got the fellow’s name wrong somehow. 
Or maybe his initials. Or maybe the name of his 
company. ’ ’ 

“Or maybe there ain’t no such animal,” said 
Laurie. “I always did sort of doubt that any 
one could have a name like Goupil. It—it is n’t 
natural, Ned!” 

“Oh, well, as Bob says, ‘All’s swell that ends 
swell,’ and Miss Comfort’s satisfied with the way 
it’s turned out, and so we might as well be.” 

“Sure,” agreed Laurie. “We don’t own it.” 

In front of the school entrance Mr. Wells’s- 


THE DEAD LETTER 


287 


blue roadster was standing, a bit faded as to 

paint, a bit battered as to mud-guards, but having 

the self-assurance and poise of a car that has 

traveled far and seen life. Laurie, to whom 

automobiles were ever a passion, stopped and 

looked it over. “Nice old bus,” he observed, 

* 

laying a friendly hand on the nickeled top of they 
brake-lever. “Let’s take a spin, Ned.” 

Ned laughed. “Think you could drive it!” 
he asked. 

“Why not! I don’t believe it’s locked. Kick 
on the switch, push down on the starter, put her 
into first—I wonder if the clutch works the same 
way as dad’s car. Yes, forward, back and 
across—All right, let ’s go!” 

Ned pulled him toward the gate. “You’d 
better come along. First thing you know you ’ll 
be yielding to temptation, old son.” 

“I sure would like to try the old boat out,” 
acknowledged Laurie. “Some time he’s going 
to look for it and find it missing. He’s always 
leaving it around like that, putting temptation 
in my way!” 

Examinations began two days later, and 
Laurie had other things to worry about than 


288 


NID AND NOD 


blue roadsters or even Kewpie ’s non-participation 
in baseball games, for, just between you and 
me, Laurie and mathematics were not on very 
friendly terms, and there was at least one other 
course that caused him uneasiness. Yet, should I 
fail to mention it later, he did scrape past, as 
did Ned and, I think, all others in whom we are 
interested. But he wasn’t certain of his fate 
until a week later, which accounts in part for the 
somewhat perturbed and unsettled condition of 
mind that was his during the rest of the present 
week. 

On Wednesday Hillman’s scored another vic¬ 
tory, and Laurie aided. Mr. Mulford put him to 
catch at the beginning of the sixth inning, and he 
performed very creditably during the remaining 
four. He made one “rotten error”—I am 
repeating his own words—when, in the eighth 
he pegged the ball a yard over Lew Cooper’s 
yearning glove and so allowed a steal to second 
that, a few minutes later, became a tally. But 
otherwise he did very well behind the bat and 
made one hit in two times up. George Pember¬ 
ton pitched the game through, and Kewpie re¬ 
mained lugubriously on the bench. Afterward 



“Nice old bus,” Laurie observed, “let’s take a spin, Ned” 



































THE DEAD LETTER 


289 


lie had quite a good deal to say about Mr. 
Mulford, none of which was very flattering. 
Hillman’s had put the game on ice in the fifth 
inning, Kewpie averred feelingly, and it wouldn’t 
have hurt Pinky or the team’s chances to have 
let him pitch a couple of innings! 

‘‘And there’s only Saturday’s game left,” 
mourned Kewqne, “and that’s with Crumble, 
and she’s better than we are and there is n’t one 
chance in a hundred of my getting into it! Gee, 
I should think folks wouldn’t make promises if 
they don’t mean to keep ’em!” 

Laurie, who was half of Kewpie’s audience, 
Hal Pringle being the other half, reminded the 
speaker that Pinky hadn’t really promised, but 
his tone lacked conviction. He, too, thought 
that the coach might have used Kewpie that 
afternoon. Kewpie was still plaintive when 
Laurie remembered that the morrow held two 
examinations and hurried off for a brief period of 
study before supper. 

I have already intimated that Laurie was not 
quite his usual care-free self that week, and the 
same is true to a greater or lesser degree of most 
of the other ninety-odd students. Finals are likely 


290 


NID AND NOD 


to put a fellow under something of a strain, and, 
as a result, normal characteristics are likely to 
suffer a change. The sober-minded become sub¬ 
ject to spells of unwonted hilarity, the normally 
irrepressible are plunged in deepest gloom, and 
the good-natured develop unsuspected tempers. 
All this is offered as plausible partial excuse for 
what happened on Friday. 


CHAPTER XXII 

THE FORM AT THE WINDOW 

N ED had been through a hard session that 
had not ended for him until after four 
o’clock, and he was very far from certain that 
his answers to Questions V and VIII were going 
to please Mr. Pennington. A game of golf with 
Dan Whipple arranged for four o’clock had not 
materialized, and Ned had returned to No 16 to 
spend the remainder of the afternoon worrying 
about the Latin examination. About 5:30 Laurie 
came in. Laurie had a bright-red flush under 
his left eye and looked extremely angry. 

“What did you do to your face?” asked Ned. 
Laurie viewed himself in the mirror above his 
chiffonier before replying. Then, “I didn’t do 
anything to it, ’ ’ he answered a bit sulkily. 
“That’s what Elk Thurston did.” 

“For the love of mud!” exclaimed Ned. 
“Don’t tell me you’ve gone and had a fight!” 

291 


292 


NED AND NOD 


“I’m not going to,” responded Laurie briefly, 
sinking into a chair. 

‘ 1 Well, then what — J ’ 

“Shut up and I ’ll tell you,” said Laurie 
crossly. “We were playing the scrubs, and Simp¬ 
son had an exam and wasn’t there, and Pinky 
put me to catching for them. Elk came sprint¬ 
ing in from third on a little in-field hit, and I got 
the ball and blocked him easy. He was out a^ 
yard from the plate, and that made him mad; that 
and the fact that he’d made an ass of himself by 
trying to score, with only one out, on a hit to 
short-stop. So he jumped up and made a great 
howl about my having spiked him. Of course I 
hadn’t. All I had done was block him off when 
he tried to slide. Cooper told him to shut up, 
and he went off growling. ’ 7 
“Well, how did you get—” 

“I’m telling you, if you’ll let me! After 
practice I was walking back with Kewpie and 
Pat Browne, and just before we got to the fence 
across the road down there Elk came up and 
grabbed me by the arm and pulled me around. 
That made me mad, anyhow, and then he began 
calling me names and saying what he’d do if I 


THE FORM AT THE WINDOW 293 

wasn’t too little, and I swung for him. Missed 
him, dog-gone it! Then he handed me this and I 
got him on the neck and the others hutted in. 
That’s all there was to it. How’s the silly 
thing look!” 

“It looks punk,” answered Ned unsympathet¬ 
ically. “Better go down and bathe it in hot 
water and then put some talcum on it. Gosh, 
son, I should think you’d have more sense than 
to get in a brawl with Elk Thurston. That 
rough-neck stuff doesn’t get you anywhere 
and—” 

“For the love of limes, shut up!” exclaimed 
Laurie. “I didn’t start it!” 

“You didn’t! Didn’t you just say that you 
hit him first—or tried to ! ” 

“What of it! Wouldn’t you have struck him 
if he’d called you all sorts of names, like that! 
I ’ll say you would! You ’re always strong on 
the ‘calm yourself’ stuff, but I notice that when 
any one gets fresh with you—” 

“I don’t pick quarrels and slug fellows right 
under the eyes of faculty, you idiot! For that 
matter—” 

‘ ‘ Oh, forget it! ” growled Laurie. ‘ ‘ What dif- 


294 NID AND NOD 

ference does it make where you do it? You give 
me a pain!” 

“You give me worse than that,” replied Ned 
angrily. “You look like—like a prize-fighter with 
that lump on your cheek. It ’s a blamed shame 
he didn’t finish the job, I say!” 

“Is that so? Maybe you’d like to finish it 
for him, eh? If you think you would, just say 
so!” 

Ned shrugged contemptuously. 1 ‘ Guess you Ve 
had enough for one day,” he sneered. “Take my 
advice and—” 

“Your advice!” cried Laurie shrilly. “Your 
advice! Yes, I’m likely to, you poor shrimp!” 
He jumped to his feet and glared at Ned invit¬ 
ingly. “You make me sick, Ned, you and your 
advice. Get it? You have n’t got enough spunk 
to resent a whack on the nose!” 

“Oh, don’t shout like a cheap skate,” answered 
Ned disgustedly. “Go and fix yourself up, if you 
can, so I won’t be ashamed to go to supper with 
you! ’ ’ 

Laurie glared, swallowed hard, and finally 
nodded. “Listen,” he said slowly. “You don’t 
have to be seen with me if it offends your 



THE FOBM AT THE WINDOW 295 


delicate sensibilities. Get it? And, what r s 
more, I don’t want to be seen with yon. I’m 
particular, too, you big bluff. When you want to 
go to supper, you go!” 

Laurie grabbed wash-cloth and towel, strode 
across the room, and slammed the door resound¬ 
ingly behind him. Left alone, Ned shrugged 
angrily. “Ugly-tempered brute,” he muttered. 

When supper-time came he descended alone to 
the dining-hall. Laurie had not returned to the 
room. Laurie arrived a few minutes late, with 
Kewpie, and took the seat at Ned’s left in silence. 
He had put talc powder over the abrasion on his 
cheek-bone, and at a little distance it would not 
have been noticed. Nearer, however, the lump 
was plainly visible and seemed to be still swelling. 
Ned caught a glimpse of it from the corner of his 
eye, but his irritation still continued, and he 
offered no comment. 

After supper both boys returned to No. 16, al¬ 
though not together, and for two hours occupied 
opposite sides of the table, and crammed for their 
last examination, which was due at ten to-morrow. 
Neither spoke once during the evening. At nine 
Laurie closed his books and went out. Half an 


296 NID AND NOD 

hour later Ned undressed and went to bed. 
Sleep didn’t come readily, for there was to-day’s 
examination to worry about, and to-morrow’s, 
too, for he hadn’t made much of that two hours 
of preparation, he feared; and then there was 
this silly quarrel with Laurie. He guessed he 
had been as much to blame as his brother, but 
there was no sense in any one’s getting mad the 
way Laurie had. When Laurie was ready to 
make friends, why, he’d be ready, too, but that 
silly goop needn’t expect him to lick his shoes! 
No, sir, if Laurie wanted to make up he could 
jolly well say so! 

Sleep did come at last, and when he awoke it 
seemed hours later. The room was in black 
darkness, but the squares of the wide open 
windows were slightly grayer. What had 
awakened him he at first didn’t know. Then his 
gaze caught a darker something against the gray- 
black of the nearer casement opening, something 
that scuffled on the stone ledge and grew larger 
as he wondered and watched. He opened his 
mouth to speak, and then remembered that he and 
Laurie were at outs. The form disappeared 


THE FOEM AT THE WINDOW 297 


from sight, and footsteps went softly across the 
boards, were muffled on the rug, and sounded 
again by the door. The door was opened, and for 
a moment Ned mentally pictured the boy peering 
anxiously out into the dim hall. Then the door 
closed again, and after a short silence Laurie’s 
bed creaked. To prove to the other that his re¬ 
turn had not been made unknown, Ned sat up in 
the blackness and thumped his pillow, striving 
to express disapprobation in the thumps. Across 
the room the faint stirrings ceased, and silence 
reigned again. 

Ned smiled grimly. Laurie had probably 
thought that by being so quiet he could get in 
without his brother’s knowing it, but he had 
shown him! Then Ned’s satisfaction faded. 
What the dickens had Laurie been doing out at 
this time of night? It must be twelve, or even 
later! If he had been up to mischief—but of 
course he had; a fellow didn’t climb into his 
room by the window unless he had something to 
hide. Even being out after ten o’clock was a 
punishable offense! Ned began to worry. Sup¬ 
pose some one had seen Laurie. Why had Laurie 


298 


NID AND NOD 


gone to the door and listened unless he had sus¬ 
pected some one of having seen him? The idiot! 
The chump! The— 

Over his head he heard a board creak. He lis¬ 
tened. The sound reached him again. In Elk 
Thurston’s room some one was up, too. Or had 
he imagined it? All was quiet now. Was it pos¬ 
sible that Laurie and Elk had been settling their 
score? Surely not at this time of night. And 
yet— From across the room came the unmistak¬ 
able sounds of deep and regular breathing. Lau¬ 
rie was asleep beyond a doubt! Ned frowned dis¬ 
gustedly. Here he was worrying himself about 
a silly coot that was fast asleep! He poked his 
head resolutely into his pillow. All right! He 
guessed he could do that, too! And presently he 
did. 

In the morning Ned waited for Laurie to break 
the ice, but Laurie did n’t. Laurie went about his 
task of dressing in silence. There was a sort of 
stern look in his face in place of the sullen expres¬ 
sion of last evening, and more than once Ned 
caught him looking across in an oddly speculative 
way. The last time Ned caught him at it he be¬ 
gan to feel uneasy, and he wanted very much to 



THE FORM AT THE WINDOW 299 


ask what Laurie meant by it. It was almost as 
if Laurie had caught him at something, instead 
of its being just the other way about! But he 
was too stubborn to speak first, and they went 
out of the room with the silence still unbroken. 

At breakfast, Mr. Brock, at whose table they 
sat, made the disquieting announcement that Ed¬ 
ward and Laurence Turner were wanted at the 
Doctor’s study at 8:30. Involuntarily the gaze 
of the two boys met swiftly. Each thought at 
once of examinations, although further considera¬ 
tion told them that it was still too soon for 
any shortcomings of theirs to reach the princi¬ 
pal. 

Although they had entered the dining-hall sep¬ 
arately, now a common uneasiness took them to¬ 
gether to the Doctor’s, albeit in silence. They 
were asked to be seated, which they accepted as 
a favorable sign, but there was, nevertheless, 
something unsympathetic in Dr. Hillman’s coun¬ 
tenance. The latter swung himself around in his 
chair and faced them, his head thrust forward 
a little because of a near-sightedness not wholly 
corrected by his spectacles. And then Laurie ob¬ 
served that the Doctor was gazing intently at a 


300 


NID AND NOD 


point just under his left eye, and told himself that 
the summons was explained. He was, though, 
still wondering why Ned had been included in 
the party when the Doctor spoke. 

“Laurence,” he asked, “how did you come by 
that contusion?” 

Laurie hesitated, then answered, “I was hav¬ 
ing a—a little bout with one of the fellows and 
he struck me, sir.” 

“Who was the boy?” 

“Thurston, sir.” 

“Have you witnesses to prove that?” 

“Yes, sir, several fellows were there. Pat— 
I mean Patton Browne, and Proudtree and—” 

“When did it take place, this—ah—bout?” 

“Yesterday afternoon, about half-past five.” 

The Doctor mused a minute. Then, “Which 
of you boys entered your room by the window 
last night at about a quarter before twelve 
o’clock?” he asked. The question was so unex¬ 
pected that Laurie’s mouth fell open widely. 
Then, as neither boy answered, the Doctor con¬ 
tinued: “Was it you, Laurence?” 

“N-no, sir!” blurted Laurie. 

Then, ere the words were well out, he wished 



THE FORM AT THE WINDOW 301 

them back, and in a sudden panic he added, “I 
mean,—” 

But the Doctor had turned to Ned. “Was it 
you, Edward?” he asked. 

Ned’s gaze dropped from the Doctor’s, and 
for an instant he made no reply. Then he raised 
his eyes again, and, “I’d rather not say, sir,” 
he announced respectfully but firmly. 

There followed another brief silence. Laurie 
was trying hard not to look at Ned. The Doctor 
was thoughtfully rolling a pencil across the big 
blotter under the palm of one hand. Ned watched 
him and waited. Then the Doctor looked up 
again. 

“You are, of course,” he said not unkindly, 
“privileged to refuse to answer, Edward, hut 
when you do there is but one construction to be 
placed on your refusal. I presume that you did 
climb into your room by a window last night. I 
confess that I don’t understand it, for this is the 
first time since you came to us that your conduct 
has been questioned. If you are shielding an¬ 
other—” his glance swept to Laurie and away 
again—“you are doing wrong. Punishment that 
falls on an innocent party fails of its purpose. 


302 


NID AND NOD 


I am, therefore, going to ask yon to reconsider, 
Edward. It will be better for every one if you 
answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to my question.” 

Ned returned the principal’s gaze straightly. 
“I’d rather not, sir,” he replied. 

“Very weH, but I warn you that your offense is 
a very serious one and that it calls for a drastic 
penalty. Were you alone in the—ah—escapade ? ’ ’ 

Ned looked puzzled. “Sir?” he asked. 

“I asked you—But you need not answer that. 
I ’ll put it another way. There were two of you 
in the car according to an eye-witness. Who was 
the other boy?” 

“Car?” faltered Ned. “What car, sir?” 

The Doctor frowned disapprovingly. “It is 
so futile, my boy,” he said, “to act this way.” 
He turned to Laurie. “What do you know about 
this, Laurence? You have said that you did not 
enter your room last night by the window. At 
what time did you return to your room? Where 
were you, for instance, at, say, a quarter to 
twelve ? ’ ’ 

“I was in bed, sir.” 

“What time did you go to bed?” 

“About ten minutes past ten.” 




THE FORM AT THE WINDOW 303 


61 Where was Edward then?” 

“In bed, sir, and asleep.” 

“What? You are telling me the truth? Did 
you see him there?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

The Doctor frowned perplexedly. “Then you 
know nothing of any one’s having entered your 
room by a window close to midnight?” 

Laurie hesitated now. Then, “I went to sleep 
about ten minutes after I got in bed, sir, and so 
I wouldn’t be likely—” 

“Please answer my question,” interrupted the 
Doctor coldly. 

“I’d rather not, sir,” said Laurie. 

“One more question, then,” announced the in¬ 
quisitor grimly. “Were you in Mr. Well’s auto¬ 
mobile last evening when it collided with a hy¬ 
drant on Washington Street at approximately 
half-past eleven?” 

<■ ‘ Why, no, sir! I did n’t know it had—had col¬ 
lided!” 

Ned was looking rather white. 

“You know nothing about the incident?” 

“No, sir!” 

“And you, Edward|” 


304 


NID AND NOD 


“No, sir.” 

“But, if you deny the automobile part of it, 
why not deny the rest? I see, though. You knew 
that Mr. Cornish had seen you climbing in at the 
window. I’m afraid you won’t get anywhere 
that way, Edward. Mr. Well’s car was taken 
from the front of the school last evening and 
driven out Washington Street six blocks, where 
it was in collision with a hydrant. It was aban¬ 
doned there. A reliable witness states positively 
that there were two persons in the car just be¬ 
fore the accident. About ten or twelve minutes 
later Mr. Cornish saw some one climb up the 
Washington Street side of East Hall and disap¬ 
pear through your window. Those are the facts, 
Edward. The evidence against you is so far 
circumstantial, but you must acknowledge that 
the incident of the car and that of your—of 
some one’s entrance into your room by the win¬ 
dow look to be more than a mere coincidence. 
In other words, whoever entered your room at 
midnight was in the stolen car a quarter of an 
hour before. That’s a fair and very natural as¬ 
sumption. If I were you, I’d think the mat¬ 
ter over carefully and see me again before eight 


THE FORM AT THE WINDOW 305 


o’clock this evening, at which time it will come 
before the faculty conference. And now, Lau¬ 
rence, let me have those names once more.” He 
drew a scratch-pad to him and poised a pencil. 
“You say Elkins Thurston struck you and that 
Proudtree, Browne, and—who else was there?” 

“Lew Cooper and Gordon Simkins were there 
when—right afterward, sir, and I guess they saw 
it.” 

“Thank you. That is all, then. I shall have 
to ask both of you to remain in bounds until 
this matter is—ah—settled. Good morning.” 

“But—but, Doctor, I’m—I’m on the baseball 
team, sir!” exclaimed Laurie in almost horrified 
accents. “We play this afternoon!” 

“I’m sorry, Laurence,” was the reply, “but 
until you are more frank in your answers I shall 
have to consider you under suspicion, also.” 

“Well,” said Laurie bitterly, when they were 
outside, “you certainly have made a mess of 
things!” 

“I!” exclaimed Ned incredulously,. “I’ve 
made a mess of things? What about you?” 

“Me? What could I say?” countered Laurie 
hotly. “I did all I could!” 


306 


NID AND NOD 


“All right,” said Ned wearily. “Let ’s drop 
it. He won’t be able to pin anything on you. 
You ’ll get out of it all right.” 

There was a trace of bitterness in Ned’s voice, 
and Laurie scowled. “Well, he asked me so sud¬ 
denly,” he muttered apologetically, “I—I just 
said what came into my head. I’m sorry. I’d 
have refused to answer if he had n’t sprung it so 
quick. ’ ’ 

“It would have been rather more—rather less 
contemptible,” answered Ned coldly. 

Laurie flushed. “Thanks! I guess that ’ll be 
about all from you, Ned. When I want any more 
of your brotherly remarks I ’ll let you know!” 
He swung aside and left Ned to go on alone to No. 
16 . 

The story of the purloining of the physical di¬ 
rector’s blue roadster was all over school by that 
time. Ned got the full details from Kewpie. 
Mr. Wells had left the car in front of School 
Hall, as he very often did, and was playing a 
game of chess with Mr. Pennington. Shortly af¬ 
ter half-past eleven he had looked for the car, 
had failed to find it, and had hurried to the corner. 
There he had met a man coming down Walnut 


THE FORM AT THE WINDOW 307 


Street who, when questioned, said that he had 
seen such a car as Mr. Wells’s about five blocks 
east, where Washington and Walnut Streets 
come together, not longer ago than five minutes. 
There were two persons in it, and the car was 
not being driven more than, possibly, twenty 
miles an hour. Mr. Wells had gone out Walnut 
Street and found the car with one front wheel 
on the sidewalk, the mud-guard on that side torn 
off, and the radiator stove in. There was no 
one about. The car was n’t very badly damaged, 
it was said, but Mr. Wells was awfully mad about 
it. It was down in Plummer’s Garage, and Ned 
could see it if he wanted to. Kewpie had seen 
it. It looked fierce, but maybe it wouldn’t cost 
more than a hundred dollars to fix it up again! 

“Know who did it?” asked Ned. 

“Me? I ’ll say I don’t!” Kewpie laughed re- 
lievedly. “I guess it was professional automo¬ 
bile thieves, all right, though. They were prob¬ 
ably heading for Windsor. That’s a dark 
corner up there, and I guess they lost the road 
and turned too quick. They must have lost their 
nerve, for Mr. Wells drove the car down to the 
garage and it went all right, they say. Guess 


308 


NID AND NOD 


they thought it was done for and didn’t try to 
see if it would still go. Sort of a joke on them, 
wasn’t it?” 

“I suppose,” said Ned carelessly, “none of 
our fellows are suspected?” 

“Of course not. Why, it happened after half¬ 
past eleven! Say, you haven’t—haven’t heard 
anything?” Kewpie’s eyes grew round with ex¬ 
citement. “Say, Ned, what is it?” But Ned 
shook his head wearily. 

“I know no more of the business than you do, 
Kewpie. Now beat it, will you? I’ve got an 
exam at ten.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


SUSPENDED 

N ED did n’t get much studying done, though. 

Instead, he spent most of the half-hour re¬ 
maining before the examination in trying to solve 
the mystery of the stolen car and Laurie’s part in 
the affair. It wasn’t like Laurie to indulge in 
a prank so mischievous, and he could scarcely be¬ 
lieve that Laurie had taken part in the escapade. 
Still, he had the evidence of his own senses. He 
had seen Laurie enter by the window; and, too, 
he recalled the latter’s stated desire to drive Mr. 
Well’s car. At home in California Laurie was 
forever begging the wheel away from his father 
and was never happier than when steering the 
big car along the smooth roads about Santa Lu¬ 
cia. But, if Laurie had taken Mr. Well’s road¬ 
ster, who had been with him? He wished that 
Laurie hadn’t told a lie to the Doctor. That, 
too, was something very unlike Laurie. Of 

course, as he had said afterward, the question 

309 


310 


NID AND NOD 


had been sudden and unexpected, and he had said 
the first thing that came into his mind, but that 
didn’t excuse the lie. 

Ned’s refusal to answer had been made in the 
effort to shift suspicion from Laurie to himself, 
but he wondered now if it would not have been 
as well to tell the truth. His self-sacrifice hadn’t 
helped his brother much, after all, for Laurie 
was still suspected of complicity. The affair 
would probably end in the suspension of them 
both, perhaps in their expulsion. It was all a 
sorry mess, and Ned had n’t discovered any solu¬ 
tion of it when ten o’clock came. 

Rather to his surprise, he got through the ex¬ 
amination, which lasted until past twelve, very 
well. Then came dinner, at which neither he 
nor Laurie displayed much of the exuberant spirit 
that possessed their table companions. After 
the meal Ned went over to the library for an 
hour. When he returned to No. 16 he found 
Laurie standing at the window that looked south¬ 
ward toward the distant ball-field, dejection in 
the droop of his shoulders. Ned felt very sorry 
for the other just then, and he tried to find some- 


SUSPENDED 


311 


thing to say but couldn’t, though he cleared his 
throat twice and got as far as “Hm!” You 
could n’t see much of the baseball game from that 
window. The diamond was at the far end of the 
field, and a corner of the football stand hid most 
of it. Laurie found a book and read, and Ned be¬ 
gan a letter to his father. Somehow the after¬ 
noon wore away. 

Kewpie burst in at a little before five, at once 
triumphant and downcast. Hillman’s had won, 
11 to 8, but Kewpie Proudtree had not been al¬ 
lowed to pitch for even a part of an inning, and 
so his last chance was gone, and if Pinky called 
that doing the square thing— But Laurie broke 
in just then. “Can it,” he said gruffly. “You 
saw the game, anyhow, and that’s more than I 
did!” 

“That’s right,” said Kewpie, apologetically. 
“It’s a rotten shame, Nod. What’s Johnny got 
on you, anyhow? You can tell me. I won’t say 
a word.” 

“He hasn’t got anything on me,” growled 
Laurie. “He just thinks he has. Who pitched?” 

“George started, but they got to him in the 


312 


NID AND NOD 


fourth—no, fifth, and Nate finished out. Gee, 
they were three runs ahead of us in the sev¬ 
enth ! ’’ 

“Did Elk get in'?” 

“No, he ’s got a sprained wrist or something. 
Pinky had Simpson, of the scrubs, catch the last 
of the ninth. He dropped everything that 
reached his hands, though.” 

“Elk ’s got a sprained wrist, you say! How’d 
he do it ?’ ’ 

“I don’t know. iMaybe it is n’t a wrist. He’s 
got something wrong, though, for I heard Dave 
Brewster talking about it. ’ ’ After a minute 
Kewpie returned to his grievance, and, since 
Laurie appeared busy with his own thoughts, he 
was allowed to unburden himself to his heart’s 
content. Ned condoled with him somewhat ab¬ 
stractedly. When he had taken himself out 
Laurie broke the silence. 

“With Elk out of the game,” he said bitterly, 
“I’d have had my chance to-day, and then this 
had to happen!” 

Ned might have reminded Laurie that he had 
only himself to blame, but he didn’t. He only 
said, “I’m sorry, old son.” There was sincerity 


SUSPENDED 


313 


in his tone, and Laurie heard it. He made no 
answer, however. But later, at supper, their 
feud was dead, and after supper, in the room, 
they talked enough to make up for twenty-four 
hours of silence. One subject, though, was not 
mentioned. 

Sunday morning the blow fell. There was an¬ 
other visit to Dr. Hillman’s study. Both boys 
were again questioned, but their answers did not 
vary from those they had given on Saturday. 
The Doctor showed genuine regret when he made 
known the decision of the faculty. Laurie had 
been exonerated from lack of evidence against 
him, although it was apparent that the Doctor 
, considered him as deserving of punishment as 
Ned. Ned was suspended. That meant that he 
would not be passed in his examinations and 
would have to return next year as a lower-mid- 
dler again. He might, as the Doctor reminded 
him, study during the summer and so make the 
upper-middle class during the fall term, however. 
As the present term was so nearly at an end, the 
Doctor continued, Ned would be permitted to re¬ 
main at school until Laurie was ready to ac¬ 
company him home. The Doctor ended the in- 


314 


NID AND NOD- 


terview with the suggestion that it would be a 
manly act on the part of the twins to reimburse 
Mr. Wells for the damage done to his car. Ned 
opened his mouth as though to say something 
then, but he changed his mind and closed it 
again very tightly. A minute later they were 
outside. 

“Gosh, Ned, I’m sorry!” said Laurie miser¬ 
ably. 

Ned nodded. “Thanks. It ’s all right. One 
of us had to get it.” 

“One of us?” repeated Laurie a bit blankly. 
“Why, yes, I suppose so, but—” 

“Well, you Ve got your baseball to look after, 
and I haven’t anything. So it’s better they 
picked on me, is n’t it?” 

“We—ell,” began Laurie. Then he stopped 
and shook his head in a puzzled way. Finally, 
“You ’ll stick around until Thursday, won’t 
you?” he asked anxiously. 

The other nodded. “Might as well,” he said. 
“I could get out now and wait for you in New 
York, but I don’t see any reason why I should 
spend all that money just to act haughty.” 

The blow having fallen, Ned, who had already 


SUSPENDED 


315 


discounted it, cheered up quite remarkably. Af¬ 
ter all, he told himself, he had saved Laurie, and 
last autumn Laurie had saved him from some¬ 
thing very close to disgrace, and so this sacrifice 
only somewhat evened accounts. He allowed 
himself to be persuaded to accompany the others 
on the Sunday afternoon walk, only pledging 
Laurie to say nothing of his suspension. It was 
not until Monday noon that the news leaked out, 
and not until hours after that that the school be¬ 
gan to connect the incident of the wrecked auto¬ 
mobile with Ned’s fate. Even then most of those 
who knew Ned intimately refused to believe that 
there could be any connection between the two 
things. Questioned, Ned was very uncommuni¬ 
cative, and by Tuesday even his closest friends 
began to waver in their faith. 

Laurie went back to the baseball fold on Mon¬ 
day. Kewpie’s report about Elk was true. Elk 
was nursing a lame wrist. He had, it seemed, 
hurt it in wrestling with his room-mate. It had 
kept him out of the game Saturday, and it pre¬ 
vented his doing any catching on Monday; but 
on Tuesday the injured wrist appeared as good 
as ever, and Laurie, who $iad been temporarily 


316 


NID AND NOD 


elevated to the position of first substitute catcher, 
again dropped into third place. The Farview 
game was due on Wednesday, which was likewise 
Class day and the final day of the school term. 
On Monday Coach Mulford was very easy with 
the first-string players but gave the substitutes 
a hard afternoon’s work. Laurie caught four of 
the five innings that the substitutes played 
against the scrub team. In the final inning he 
gave place to Simkins and took that youth’s 
berth at first base. Tuesday saw the whole 
squad hard at work in the final preparation for 
the enemy, and no player, from Captain Dave 
Brewster down to the least of the substitutes, 
had a minute’s respite. “You fellows can rest 
all you want to after to-morrow, ’ ’ said the coach. 
“You can spend all summer resting if you like. 
To-day you ’re going to work and work hard.” 
Even Kewpie, who knew that Fate held nothing 
for him, was subjected to almost cruel exertion. 
He pitched to Laurie until his arm almost re¬ 
belled, and he was made to “dummy pitch” from 
the mound and then field the balls that Pinky 
batted at him and to all sides of him. And he 
ran bases, too, and Kewpie considered that the 


SUSPENDED 


317 


final indignity and privately thought that the 
least Pinky could do was to leave him in peace to 
his sorrow. But before Tuesday’s practice be¬ 
gan other things of more importance to our 
story happened. While dressing Tuesday morn¬ 
ing Laurie let fall a remark that led to the clear¬ 
ing away of mistakes and misconceptions. 

“You must have gone to bed with your clothes 
on the other night,” he observed. “If you 
did n % you sure made a record! ’ ’ 

Ned stared. “What other night?” he asked. 

Laurie floundered. Neither of them had re¬ 
ferred to the matter since Sunday. “Why— 
well, you know. The night you got in the win¬ 
dow,” Laurie explained apologetically. 

“The night I got in the window! Are you 
crazy?” 

“Oh, well,” muttered Laurie, “all right. I 
did n’t mean to make you huffy. ’ ’ 

He went on with his dressing, but Ned still 
stared at him. After a minute Ned asked: 
“Look here, old son, what made you say that? 
About me getting in the window, I mean.” 

“Why, nothing.” Laurie wanted peace in the 
family. “Nothing at all.” 


318 


NID AND NOD 


“You had some reason,” Ned persisted, “so 
out with it.” 

“Well, you were so blamed quick, Ned. 
You went to the door and then I heard you 
get into bed about thirty seconds afterward. 
It don’t seem to me that you had time to un¬ 
dress.” 

“Let’s get this right,” said Ned with what was 
evidently forced calm. “Sit down there a min¬ 
ute, Laurie. Why do you say it was I who came 
through the window?” 

It was Laurie’s turn to stare. “Why, why 
because I saw you! I waked up just as your head 
came over the sill, you chump! ’ ’ 

“You saw my head come— Look here, are you 
in earnest or just trying to be funny?” 

“Seems to me it’s you who are acting 
the silly ass,” answered Laurie aggrievedly. 
“What’s the big idea, anyway?” 

“But—but, great Scott, Laurie,” exclaimed 
Ned excitedly. “I saw you come in the win¬ 
dow ! ’ ’ 

“Cut the comedy,” grinned Laurie. “I 
was n’t out, and you know it.” 

“Well, was I, you poor fish? Wasn’t I in 



SUSPENDED 319 

bed and asleep when yon came in, as you told 
Johnny you did!” 

“Sure, but— Say, do you mean to tell me I 
didn’t see—” 

“Of course you didn’t! But—” 

“Then who did I see?” asked Laurie a trifle 
wildly. 

“Who did 1 see?” countered Ned. “You say 
it wasn’t you—” 

“Me! Hang it, I went to bed at ten and 
wasn’t awake again until I heard a noise and 
saw you—well some one coming in that window! 
Look here, if it wasn’t you, why didn’t you tell 
Johnny so?” 

“Because I thought it was you, you poor 
prune! ’ ’ 

“What! But I’d said—” 

‘ 1 Sure you had, but I’d seen you with my own 
eyes, had n’t I?” 

Laurie shook his head weakly. “This is too 
much for me,” he sighed. “It wasn’t you and 
it was n’t me but it was one of us! I pass!” 

“But it wasn’t one of us,” exclaimed Ned. 
That’s what I’m getting at. Don’t you see 
what happened?” Laurie shook his head. 



320 


NID AND NOD 


“ Listen, then. We were both asleep, and we 
each heard the noise and woke up. Some one 
came through the window, crossed the room, 
opened the door, looked out to see that the coast 
was clear, went out, and closed the door after 
him. ’’ 

“But I heard you get into bed!” 

“No, you didn’t. You heard me sit up and 
punch my pillow. I wanted you to know that you 
weren’t getting away with it. For that mattes 
I heard your bed creak and thought you were 

i 

getting into it.” 

“I sat up, too,” said Laurie. “Gee, that’s a 
queer one! All this time I thought it was you 
and could have kicked myself around the block 
for yelling ‘No!’ when Johnny asked me that 
question! Then—then who the dickens was it, 
Ned!” 

“That,” answered Ned grimly, “is what we’ve 
got to find out. Just now it’s up to us to get 
out of here before we miss our breakfasts!” 

“Hang breakfast!” shouted Laurie. “This is 
better than a hundred breakfasts! Why—why, 
it means that you—that you aren’t suspended! 
It means—” 


SUSPENDED 


321 


“Put your collar on, and make it snappy/’ 
laughed Ned. “We’ve got some work ahead of 
us this morning!” 

After breakfast they hurried hack to No. 16, 
barred the door against intruders, especially 
Kewpie, sat down at opposite sides of the study 
table, and faced the problem. They continued 
to face it until nearly eleven. They examined 
the window-sill for clues, and found none. They 
leaned out and studied the ivy by means of 
which the mysterious visitor had reached the 
second story, and it told them nothing, or so 
it seemed at the moment. As they turned back 
to the room Ned said idly: “It y s lucky the 
fellow didn’t have to get to the third floor, for 
I don’t believe he could have made it. That ivy 
sort of peters out above our window.” 

Laurie nodded uninterestedly and silence en¬ 
sued, just as silence had ensued so frequently 
before in the course of morning. Then, several 
minutes later, Ned said suddenly, questioningly; 

“Thurston!” 

Laurie shook his head. “Not likely. Besides, 
what reason—” 

“Wait a minute. I didn’t tell you. It didn’t 


I 


322 NID AND NOD 

seem important. After I’d settled down again 
that night I heard the floor up-stairs creak twice. 
I wasn’t just certain then, but now I am! Elk 
Thurston was moving about up there, Laurie!’ 9 
“Well, what if he was? That doesn’t 
prove—” He stopped and frowned intently. 
“Hold on, though, Ned! What about Elk’s 
wrist?” 

“We’ve got it!” cried Ned. 

“Yes, maybe. Let’s go slow, though. You 
don’t happen to know whether Elk can drive a 
car, do you?” 

“No, but I ’ll bet you anything you like that he 
tried to drive that one! Look here, our window 
was open and it was easy to reach. He could n’t 
have made his own without chancing a fall. He 
trusted to our being asleep. He—” 

“What about the other fellow, though?” asked 
Laurie. “We didn’t see—” 

“No, but maybe he got in first. Maybe it was 
really he who awoke us. Come to think of it, 
you said that when you woke up the fellow’s head 
was just coming into sight. Well, in that case 
there wouldn’t have been enough noise—” 

“By jiminy, that’s so! Bet you that’s what 



SUSPENDED 323 

happened. But who— Say, maybe the other fel¬ 
low was Jim Hallock!” 

“Just what I was thinking,” agreed Ned. “I 
don’t see, though, how we can prove anything 
against either of them. Look here, son, I guess 
the best thing we can do is see Johnny and tell 
him all about it. After that it will be up to 
the faculty. Come on!” 

They had to wait some time for an audience, 
but finally they were facing the Doctor, and Ned, 
as spokesman, was saying very earnestly: “Nei¬ 
ther Laurie nor I was out of our room after ten 
o’clock Friday night, sir. Somebody did come 
in our window, though, and woke us up. I 
thought it was Laurie and he thought it was me, 
and that’s why I didn’t want to answer your 
question, sir.” 

Now, nothing could have been clearer and 
simpler than that and yet, when Ned had finished, 
the principal blinked behind his spectacles, gazed 
a moment in silence, and then waved a hand. 

“Sit down, boys,” he said. “Now, Edward I 
think you’d better say that all over again. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XXIV 


MR. GOUPIL CALLS 

A F l TER practice that afternoon Laurie re¬ 
turned to the room to find Ned engaged in 
sorting things out preparatory to packing up. 
When Laurie entered, however, the other paused 
in his effort to stuff more rubbish into an already 
overloaded waste-basket and announced in tri¬ 
umph, “We had it right, partner!” 

“Elk Thurston?” 

“Elk and Jim Hallock. Elk’s just left here.” 
“Left here? You mean he was in to see you?” 
Ned nodded. “Yes. It was rather decent of 
him, I think. Take that idiotic expression from 
your face and sit down. This is how Elk tells 
it. He and Jim were looking out of their window 
that night and saw the lights of Mr. Wells’s car 
on the other side of the hedge. One of them said 
something about Mr. Wells always leaving his 
car around and what a joke it would be if it 
wasn’t there when he came back for it. Well, 


324 


MR. GOUPIL CALLS 


325 


that idea sort of stuck, and after a while Elk 
suggested that they sneak down and run the car 
off around the comer. Elk says that Jim usually 
wouldn’t have gone in for anything like that 
on a bet, hut there’d been some tough exams 
that day, and Jim was sort of keyed up. Any¬ 
how, they sneaked down-stairs after a while and 
got out by one of the windows in the recreation- 
room. They didn’t dare try the front way, for 
Cornish had liis study door open. They put the 
brakes off and tried to push the car toward 
Washington Street, but it was heavy, and after 
they’d got it a little ways they decided to start 
it and run it around the corner. So they did, 
pretty sure that it was too far off for Mr. Wells 
to hear. Elk took the wheel and they went to 
Washington Street. Then, he says, the thing 
was working so pretty they thought they’d go 
on further. When they got to where Washington 
joins Walnut it was pretty dark, and he swung 
to the right too soon. 

“That’s when they hit the hydrant. Of 
course, they were scared pink, and Elk shut the 
motor off and they beat it as fast as they 
could. When they got back here they found that 


326 


NID AND NOD 


some one had been prowling around and had 
locked the window. Then they saw our windows 
open and decided to climb up by the ivy. Elk 
says they hoped we ’d be asleep. If we waked up 
they meant to tell us and ask us to keep mum. 
Jim climbed up first and made it all right, but 
Elk had hurt his wrist when the car struck the 
hydrant, and he had a hard time of it. They 
didn’t either of them know that Cornish had 
seen them. For that matter, he only saw one, 
I guess, and that one was probably Elk, foi* 
he says it took him two or three minutes to get to 
the window because his wrist hurt him so. 
Seems that Jim left the hall door open after him, 
but the draft closed it, and that’s what woke us 
up, I guess. Well, what Elk came for was to say 
that neither of them knew they’d been seen and’ 
that they hadn’t meant to throw suspicion on us. 
He says if they’d known that Cornish was prowl¬ 
ing around they wouldn’t have entered our 
window. He was very particular about making 
that clear. Guess he thought you .might think he 
had done it on purpose to get even with you. 
And that’s that, old son.” 

Laurie nodded thoughtfully. “Kind of too 


MR. GOUPIL CALLS 


327 


bad,” lie mused. “I suppose they didn’t intend 
anything but a sort of joke on Mr. Wells. Did 
he tell you what they were going to get?” 

1 ‘Get? Oh, they ’re suspended, he says. He 
seemed to feel worse about Jim than about him¬ 
self. Do you know, old son, after all Elk isn’t 
such a bad sort. At least, that’s the way it 
strikes me after hearing his spiel. He says he’s 
not coming back next year. He’s going to tutor 
this summer and try and make college in the 
fall.” 

*‘Yeah,” said Laurie abstractedly. “Well, 
I’m sort of sorry for him. And of course he 
did n’t mean to get us in wrong. ” He lapsed into 
silence. Then, abruptly, “Cas Bennett split his 
finger with a foul tip about half an hour ago,” 
he announced. 

“He did?” exclaimed Ned. “Gosh, that’s 
tough luck! Will it keep him out of the game ? ’ ’ 

“Yes,” replied Laurie. 

“That is tough! Say, what are you looking 
so queer about ? ’ ’ 

“Just thinking,” answered Laurie. “You try 
it.” 


“Huh?” 


328 


NID AND NOD 


“Use the old bean, son. Cas has split his 
finger, Elk’s suspended—” 

“Great jumpin’ Jehoshaphat! Why, then, 
you—you—” 

“Correct,” said Laurie. “I ’ll have to catch 
to-morrow, and—and at the present moment, 
Ned, I’m scared to death!” 

That had been a day of events, and it was not 
yet over. Attic Society was giving its usual end- 
of-the-term blow-out that evening, and both Ned 
and Laurie were invited. The affair began at 
eight, and at half-past seven they were in No. 16 
putting the finishing touches to their toilets. Al¬ 
though it was a stag-party it called for best 
clothes and polished shoes and carefully brushed 
hair, and Laurie was trying hard to subdue a 
rebellious lock on the crown of his head when 
there came a knock on the door. Both boys 
shouted “Come in!” simultaneously. Then the 
door was opened, revealing Mr. Cornish, the hall 
master, and a stranger. The boys grabbed for 
their coats, Laurie dropping a military brush to 
the floor with a disconcerting noise. Mr. Cor- 


MR. GOUPIL CALLS 329 

nish ushered the stranger in but himself came no 
further than the door-sill. 

“Here is a gentleman to see you, Laurence,” 
said the instructor. “I was quite certain you 
were in, and so I brought him up.” 

Mr. Cornish smiled, nodded to the guest, who 
bowed impressively, and departed, closing the 
door behind him. 

“Very glad indeed—” began Laurie. 

“Have a seat, won’t—” supplemented Ned. 

“Thank you.” The stranger again bowed and 
seated himself, placing a cane across his immac¬ 
ulately clad legs and balancing a somewhat 
square derby hat perilously atop. “I begin by 
offering you my apologies for this intrusion,” 
he continued. 

“Not necessary,” mumbled Laurie, his gaze 
busy with the guest. The latter appeared to be 
about fifty, was under rather than over average 
height, and was very broad and thick and, like 
his derby, rather square of contour. He even 
had a distinctly square face which began very 
high up, because of the disappearance of what 
hair may have adorned the front of his head at 



330 


NID AND NOD 


one time, and ended in an auxiliary chin. He 
wore a very black mustache whose ends were 
waxed to sharp points. His eyes were quite as 
black and almost as sharp as his mustache. He 
looked foreign, and, indeed spoke with more than 
a trace of accent, but he was evidently a gentle¬ 
man, and he impressed the boys very favorably. 

“With your permission,’’ he continued, “I will 
introduce myself.” He regarded Laurie. “I 
have the honor of addressing Mr. Laurie 
Turner?” Laurie nodded. The guest carefully 
secured hat and stick, arose, and bowed deeply. 
“I,” he announced then, “am Mr. Goupil.” 

For an instant silence ensued. Then, “Mister 
—I beg your pardon,” said Laurie, “but did you 
say Goupil?” 

“Goupil,” confirmed the gentleman, bowing 
again and smiling very nicely. 

“You mean,” stammered Laurie, “the Mr. 
Goupil? Of Sioux City? Miss Comfort’s Mr. 
Goupil ? ’ ’ 

11 Surely. ’ ’ 

“Why—why, then,” exclaimed Laurie, “I’m 
mighty glad to meet you, sir.” He stepped for¬ 
ward with outstretched hand, and Mr. Goupil en- 


MR. GOUPIL CALLS 


331 


folded it in a far more capacious one. “And 
this is my brother Ned.” Mr. Goupil then 
shook hands with the amazed Ned. After that 
they all sat down. Mr. Goupil arranged stick 
and hat with precision, cleared his throat, and 
began: 

“My dear sister-in-law has told me of your 
most kind efforts in her behalf, and I have pre¬ 
sented myself to make explanation and to add my 
expressions of gratitude.” Mr. Goupil spoke 
rather deliberately and seemed to choose his 
words with care. “That your telegram received 
no response is a matter of extreme regret. Yet, 
when I inform you that it never reached me, you 
will, of a certainty, exonerate me from discour¬ 
tesy, Mr. Laurie.” 

“Why, surely,” agreed Laurie eagerly. “We 
had already found out that the telegram was de¬ 
livered to the wrong person, sir.” 

“All! Is it so? But doubtless!” Mr. Gou¬ 
pil paused and nodded several times, “Allow 
me, please, the explanation of certain ever-to-be- 
regretted circumstances. You must know, then, 
that after the death of my excellent and never-to- 
be-fprgotten wife I was plunged in sorrow. You, 


332 


NID AND NOD 


sir, have never lost a beloved wife—but, no, no, 
of a certainty you have not!” Mr Goupil 
laughed at himself heartily before he went on. 
“Very well. To pursue. In my sorrow I re¬ 
turned to the country of my birth for a visit, to 
France, to Moissac, where live many of my rela¬ 
tions. But, sir, one does not elude Sorrow by 
crossing the ocean! No, no, it is here!” Mr. 
Goupil struck himself twice on the chest. ‘ 1 Soon 
I return, sir, yet in the brief period of my ab¬ 
sence the harm has been done!” He paused with 
dramatic effect. 

“Indeed,” said Ned sympathetically, yet puz¬ 
zled. 

“Yes, sir, for although I am absent but five 
months, yet when I return a so horrible deed has 
been perpetrated in my name.” 

“Indeed.” It was Laurie’s turn this time. 
Mr. Goupil’s large countenance depicted the ut¬ 
most dejection, but only for a moment. 

“In my absence,” he went on, brightening, 
“my lawyer, in whose hands all my affairs of per¬ 
son were left, learned of the terms of the will of 
my late wife’s mother. The will says that at the 
death of my late wife the property in this so 


ME. GOUPIL CALLS 


333 


quaint town occupied by my dear sister-in-law 
shall revert. Thereupon, stupid that he was, my 
lawyer proceeds to write to my sister-in-law to 
that effect. The rest, sir, you know. Yet this 
lamentable news reached me but three days ago! 
1 What,’ asks this lawyer, ‘will you do with this 
property in Orstead, New York?’ 

“ ‘What property do you speak of?’ I ask 
him. He tells me then. I am overcome. I am 
frantic. ‘Imbecile!’ I shout. ‘What have you 
done?’ I come at once by the fastest of 
trains. I am here!” 

“That—that was very nice of you,” faltered 
Laurie, keeping his eyes carefully away from 
Ned. 

“Nice! But what else to be done? For noth¬ 
ing at all would I have had it so happen, and so 
I hasten to make amends, to offer apologies to 
my dear wife’s sister, to you, sir, to correct a 
so great mistake!” 

“Certainly,” assented Laurie hurriedly. “Of 
course. But what I don’t understand is why 
the letter that Miss Comfort wrote to you didn’t 
reach you, sir.” 

Mr. Goupil made a gesture of despair. “I 


334 


Nil) AND NOD. 

will explain it also. My dear sister-in-law made 
a mistake of the address. I saw the letter. It 
was wrong. I—but wait!” Mr. Goupil drew 
forth a handsome card-case, selected of the con¬ 
tents, and reached forward. Laurie took the 
card and read: 

Chicago Sioux City Des Moines 

GOUPIL-MacHENRY COMPANY 

Stocks Bonds Investments 
514—520 Burlington Bldg., Sioux City, la. 

Members of the 

Chicago Stock Exchange 

“You see?” pursued Mr. Goupil. “My dear 
sister-in-law made the mistake regrettable. She 
addressed the letter to the 1 Goupil Machinery 
Company.’ There is none.” 

“I see,” said Laurie, enlightened, as he passed 
the engraved card to Ned. “This MacHenry is 
your partner, sir?” 

“Of a certainty. Adam MacHenry he is, a 
gentleman of Scottish birth, but now, like me, 
William Goupil, a citizen of the United States, 
sir.” 

“Oh! Well, but look here, Mr. Goupil. Miss 


MR. GOUPIL CALLS 335 

Comfort must have had your initials wrong, too, 
then, for—” 

“Ah, another misfortune! Attend, please. 
My name is Alphonse Guillaume Goupil. Yes. 
Very well. When I am in this country but a very 
short time I find that Alphonse is the name of all 
waiters in all hotels everywhere I go. I put 
aside Alphonse then. I am Guillaume Goupil. 
Then I become prosperous. I enter into busi¬ 
ness. Many do not know how to pronounce my 
first name, and that is not well. So I then spell 
it the American way. To-day I am William Gou¬ 
pil, American citizen !” 

“That explains why the telegram didn’t get 
to you,” said Laurie. “Well, the whole thing’s 
been a sort of—of—” 

“Sort of a comedy of errors,” suggested Ned. 

Mr. Goupil seized on the phrase with enthu¬ 
siasm. “Yes, yes, a comedy of errors! You ’ll 
say so! A comedy of errors of a certainty, be¬ 
yond a matter of a doubt! But now, at last, it 
is finis. All is satisfactorily arranged. You 
shall hear. First, then, I offered my dear sister- 
in-law a nice home in Sioux City, but no, she 
must stay here where it has been her home and 


336 


NID AND NOD 


her people’s home for so long a time. Also— 
Mr. Goupil laughed enjoyably—“also, Mr. Lau¬ 
rie, she fears the Indians! But at last it is ar¬ 
ranged. In the fall she will return to her house. 
By then it will be a place worthy of the sister of 
my dear and greatly lamented wife. To-morrow 
I shall give orders, oh, many orders! You shall 
see It will be—” Mr. Goupil raised his eyes 
ecstatically—‘ ‘ magnificent! ’ ’ 

“Well, that certainly is great,” said Laurie. 
“I can’t tell you how pleased I—we both are, 
Mr. Goupil.” 

Mr. Goupil bowed again, but without arising, 
and smiled his own pleasure. “I shall ask you 
to believe, Mr. Laurie, that never did I suspect 
that my dear sister-in-law was in any need of 
assistance. But now I understand. It shall be 
arranged. From now on—” He waved a hand 
grandly. Words would have said far less.. 

He arose. Laurie arose. Ned arose. Mr. 
Goupil bowed. Laurie and Ned bowed. 

“Once more, Mr. Laurie, I thank you for your 
kindness to my dear sister-in-law. I thank also 
your so noble brother. I shall be in Orstead for 


MR. GOUPIL CALLS 337 

several days and it will give me great pleasure 
to see you again. We shall meet, yes?” 

“Of a certainty,’’ answered Laurie, with no 
thought of impertinence. “To-morrow, per¬ 
haps, at Miss Comfort’s, sir. We are going 
there in the morning to say good-by to her.” 

“Excellent! Until the morning, then.” Mr. 
Goupil bowed. Laurie bowed. Ned bowed. 
Mr. Goupil placed his derby in place, gave it an 
admonishing tap, smiled pleasantly once more, 
and was gone. 

Laurie closed the door after him and leaned 
weakly against it. 

“If anything else happens to-night,” he 
sighed, “I ’ll go batty!” 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE MARVELOUS CATCH 

W EDNESDAY afternoon, and the hands 
of the clock in the tower of the Con¬ 
gregational Church, seen distantly over the tops 
of the trees, pointed to eighteen minutes before 
three. 

V 

Ideal weather for Class day, hot in the sun, 
pleasantly warm in the shade, with a very blue 
sky trimmed around the edges with puffs of 
creamy-white clouds. An ideal day, too, for the 
big game, with plenty of heat to make muscles 
responsive and no wind to deflect the ball from 
its long, arching course. Kind, as well, to the 
wearers of pretty, light dresses, with whom the 
stands were liberally sprinkled, mothers, sisters, 
cousins and aunts of the important-looking grad¬ 
uates. Dark-blue pennants and pennants of 
maroon and white drooped against their staffs 
save when a moment of frenzy set them swirling 

above the sloping stands. 

338 



THE MARVELOUS CATCH 339 

The game was three innings old, and the black 
score-board behind the back-stop held six big 
round naughts. Those three innings had not 
been devoid of interest, however, even if neither 
team had tallied. Nervousness and over-anxiety 
had filled at least two of them with breathless 
moments. In the first and second Farview had 
placed men on bases; in the second Hillman’s had 
got Pat Browne as far as third. There had been 
errors by both sides, and more than one case 
of poor judgment. Nate Beedle, pitching for the 
home team, and Luders, for the visitors, had been 
in hot water much of the time. Yet each had 
survived, and now, at the beginning of the fourth 
inning, with Farview coming to bat, the game 
was still to be won or lost. 

Laurie had been through some bad moments. 
For the first two innings he and Nate had not 
worked together very smoothly. They had had 
a half-hour of practice before an early dinner, 
during which Nate had coached the new catcher 
and Laurie had mastered signals. Later, Cas 
Bennett had given Laurie the “dope” on the 
Farview batters. He was still giving it between 
innings, for Laurie’s mind was in no condition 


340 


NID AND NOD 


to memorize. By the beginning of the third inn¬ 
ing ten Farview players had come to the plate, 
and at least ten times Nate had refused Laurie’s 
signal. Of course Laurie had known that Nate 
was right and that he was wrong, but it had 
all been mighty confusing and disconcerting. 
Added to that was the continuing dread of throw¬ 
ing badly to second. He could peg the ball to 
first unerringly enough, or to third, but the long 
heave across the width of the diamond terrorized 
him. Once when he should have thrown to Lew 
Cooper that fear of misfortune held his hand, 
and Hillman’s had groaned as a Farview runner 
slid unchallenged to the bag. Save for that oc¬ 
casion a throw to second had not been called for, 
and the test was still ahead of him. For the 
rest, Laurie had done well enough. He - had 
dropped the delivery more times than he cared 
to recall, but had escaped without penalty. Once 
the ball had got past him entirely and bounded 
against the back-stop, but, fortunately, the bases 
had been empty. During the first of the third he 
and Nate had come to understand each other 
better, and constant reiteration by Cas had 
finally impressed Laurie with the foibles of the 


THE MARVELOUS CATCH 


341 


enemy batsmen. Now, at the beginning of tlie 
fourth, he breathed easier and found himself sus¬ 
tained by a measure of confidence. His throw 
to second, before the first of the enemy stepped 
into the box, was straight, hard, and knee-high. 

Farview began with a scratch hit to the left field 
that took an unexpected bound away from Frank 
Brattle’s ready glove. Followed a screaming 
two-bagger that placed the first runner on third. 
Only a smart throw-in by Lee Murdock pre¬ 
vented a tally then and there. The tally came 
later, however, and a second followed close be¬ 
hind it. Nate passed a batter and filled the 
bases. Then a pretty sacrifice fly to short right 
moved the runners up, and Farview cheered her 
first score. Nate struck out the subsequent bat¬ 
ter. Then came a rolling grounder to Cooper 

* 

and Lew scraped it up and, with all the time in 
the world, threw low to first. By the time Tom 
Pope had turned around about three times look¬ 
ing for the ball that he had stopped but not 
caught, the runner on third had scored, the bats¬ 
man was safe, and the chap from second was 
half-way between third and the plate. Tom shot 
the ball home; Laurie got it, held it, and swung 


342 


NID AND NOD 


downward. There was an instant’s confusion of 
dust and sound, and the umpire swung his mask 
upward and out. 

Two runs for Farview. 

Farview clung to that lead until the sixth, but 
could not add to it. In her half of the fourth 
Hillman’s got Captain Dave as far as second, but 
Murdock’s fly to left made the third out. In 
the fifth the opposing pitcher struck out Laurie 
and Nate and kindly allowed Cooper to pop a fly 
to third baseman. 

In the sixth things began to happen, all at 
once and on all sides. Farview started the 
trouble by hitting through short-stop for a base. 
Nate pitched ten deliveries before the next bats¬ 
man at last fouled out to first basemen. Then 
came an attempted sacrifice. The batsman laid 
down the ball scarcely two feet from the plate, 
and the runner on first was off. Laurie dashed 
his mask aside, scooped up the trickling sphere, 
stepped forward, and sped it to second. The 
throw was perfect, and Pope got the runner. 
Hillman’s applauded delightedly, and from the 
Blue’s bench came the approving voice of the 
coach, “Good w T ork, Turner!” Laurie, accepting 


THE MARVELOUS CATCH 


343 


his mask from a Farview batsman, reflected that 
maybe nothing was nearly as bad as yon pic¬ 
tured it beforehand, and remembered with sur¬ 
prise that in making the throw he had not con¬ 
sciously thought a thing about it; hadn’t hoped 
he would make it or feared that he wouldn’t; 
had simply picked up the ball and plugged it 
across the diamond! Exit the bugaboo! 

With two down, however, Farview refused to 
yield the inning. Instead, she poked a hit across 
second base and another past third and so added 
another tally. That seemed to distress Nate 
Beedle unnecessarily, and he proceeded to pass 
the next batsman. And after that, with two 
gone and two strikes and one ball on the succeed¬ 
ing aspirant, he pitched three more balls in suc¬ 
cession and passed him, too! Very suddenly the 
bases were full, and the game seemed about to 
go glimmering. And at that moment George 
Pemberton and the scrub catcher strode off 
around the first base stand, and if the visiting 
crowd hadn’t been making such a ridiculous 
noise the thud of ball against mitten might have 
been heard from back there. 

Nate was, in baseball parlance, “as high as a 



344 


NID AND NOD 


kite.” His first effort against the new batsman 
was a ball that Laurie only stopped by leaping 
two feet from the ground. Laurie walked half¬ 
way to the pitcher’s box, amid the exultant howls 
of a joyous foe, shook the ball in Nate’s face, and 
savagely told him to take his time. Laurie was 
angry just then. Nate was snappy and told 
Laurie to “go on back and quit beefing! I ’ll get 
him!” Laurie signaled for a high ball; the bat¬ 
ter “ate up” low ones. Nate hesitated, shook 
his head. Laurie called for one close in then. 
Nate wound up and stepped forward. The re¬ 
sult was a wide one that made the score two balls 
and no strikes. On the bench Mr. Mulford was 
watching with sharp eyes. Nate followed with a 
fast ball that was struck at too late. Laurie’s 
heart retreated down his throat again. Once 
more he signaled a high one. This time Nate 

made no demur, but the ball failed to go over. 

•• 

A substitute detached himself from the group on 
the bench and sped around the stand. Laurie, 
holding the ball, glanced toward the coach. He 
got the expected sign. Nate, too, saw, and be¬ 
gan to pull at his glove. Captain Dave joined 
him at the mound. Nate looked gloomy and mu- 


THE MARVELOUS CATCH 


345 


tinous. Then George Pemberton came into sight, 
paused an instant at the bench, and strode to¬ 
ward the box. 

Hillman’s cheered and Farview jeered. Nate 
went to the bench with hanging head. As he 
tossed the ball to the relief pitcher Laurie saw 
Mr. Mulford pull Nate to a seat beside him and 
put a big arm over the sorrowful one’s shoul¬ 
ders. Then George Pemberton was pitching his 
warm-up balls, and Laurie was devoutly hoping 
that they weren’t samples of what he would of¬ 
fer later. They were, but Laurie didn’t know 
it then, for, with three balls and but one strike 
on him, the over-eager Farview third baseman 
struck at George’s first offering and got it. The 
bases emptied, and red legs streaked for the 
plate. But far out in deep center field Lee Mur¬ 
dock cast one last look over his shoulder, turned, 
and pulled down the fly, and Hillman’s let loose 
with a sound that was half a groan of relief and 
half a yell of joyI 

With the score 3 to 0 against her, Hillman’s 
pulled up even in the last of the sixth. Craig 
Jones worked a pass; Tom Pope sacrificed him 
neatly to second; and Captain Dave, function- 


346 


NID AND NOD 


ing perfectly at last in the role of clean-up bat¬ 
ter, hit for two bases, and both Cooper and Jones 
scored. Pat Browne was safe on a fielder’s 
choice, Dave going out at third. Brattle hit 
safely, and Murdock was passed. The bags were 
all occupied, and the home team’s cohorts roared 
exultantly and waved blue banners in air. And 
Laurie came to bat. 

I’d like immensely to tell how Laurie knocked 
a home run or even a single, but truth compels 
me to state that he did nothing of the sort. He 
swung twice at good ones and missed them, and 
ended by swinging a third time at a very poor 
one. It remained for Pemberton to deliver the 
hit and, perhaps because he was a proverbially 
poor batter and wasn’t feared one bit by Mr. 
Luders, he selected the second delivery and 
jabbed it straight at the young gentleman’s head. 
Luders put up a defensive hand. The ball tipped 
it and bounded toward second. Three players 
ran for it. By the time short-stop had got, 
it, Pemberton was galloping up to first, and Pat 
Browne had slid in a cloud of dust across the 
plate. A moment later Brattle was caught off 
second, and the trouble was over for the time. 


THE MARVELOUS CATCH 347 

The seventh began with the score 3 to 3, but it 
wouldn’t have remained there long if George 
Pemberton had been allowed to pitch the inning 
through. George was even wilder than he had 
indicated. He couldn’t find the plate at all. 
Pour successive balls put a Farview batter on 
first. One strike, a foul back of the plate that 
Laurie missed by inches only, and four more 
balls put another runner on bases. Laurie 
begged, counseled, threatened. George nodded 
agreeably and still sent them in anywhere but at 
the expected spot. When he had pitched one 
strike and two balls to the third man up, Coach 
Mulford gave the 11 high sign” and George, not 
at all regretfully, it seemed, dropped the ball 
and gave way to Orville Croft. 

Somehow Croft came through unpunished. 
There were no more passes, for Croft put the 
ball over the base nicely, but there were so many 
near-hits that Laurie’s heart was in his mouth al¬ 
most every minute. If the Hillman’s fielders 
hadn’t worked like a set of young professionals 
in that inning awful things would certainly have 
befallen the Blue. The infield showed real ball 
playing, and thrice what seemed a safe hit was 


348 


NID AND NOD 


spoiled. Farview got the first of her runners to 
third, but he finally died there when Captain 
Dave dived to the base-line and scooped up a 
ball that was on its way to deep left. 

For Hillman’s the last of the seventh made 
good its reputation. It was the lucky seventh, 
and no mistake about it. Luck put Cooper on 
first when Luders slanted a slow curve against 
his ribs, and luck decreed that the red-legged 
short-stop should drop the ball a minute later 
when Cooper took advantage of Jones’s slam to 
third. Perhaps luck had something to do with 
the pass handed to Pope, too, but it certainly 
didn’t altogether govern Captain Dave’s second 
long hit that sent in Cooper and Jones and put 
Hillman’s in a veritable seventh heaven—I al¬ 
most wrote “inning”—of delight! 

That hit ended Luders’s usefulness. He issued 
another pass, got himself into a hole with Frank 
Brattle, and was derricked, a sandy-haired youth 
named Clay succeeding him. Clay disposed of 
Brattle very neatly, Murdock filed out to short¬ 
stop, and again Laurie failed to deliver the hit 
that was, he felt certain, somewhere inside him. 
Laurie brought the lucky seventh to a close by 


THE MARVELOUS CATCH 


349 


knocking a weak grounder to first baseman. 

Hillman’s visioned victory and was joyous and 
noisy when the eighth began, but after the first 
Farview batsman had lined out Croft’s first of¬ 
fering for two bases the joy paled and the noise 
noticeably subsided. And when the next’ red- 
legged batter had hit for a single it began to 
dawn on the Hillman’s supporters that possibly 
the old adage to the effect that he who laughs 
last laughs best might be true. Hillman’s pitch¬ 
ing staff was exhausted, and if Croft went the 
way of Beedle and Pemberton—and he gave 
every indication of doing so—the only way the 
Blue would get the game would be as a gift from 
Farview! The Maroon and White took to Croft 
as a duck takes to water. He didn’t have much 
except a couple of slow curves. His fast one 
wasn’t exceptionally fast, and it generally failed 
to locate the plate. Those slow curves pleased 
the Farview batsmen immensely. Even the tail- 
end of their list found no trouble in hitting them. 
Laurie, watching the man on first as a cat watches 
a mouse, saw more than a runner who might 
steal second; he saw a victory fading into de¬ 
feat. 



350 


NID AND NOD 


Croft worked two strikes on the next man, and 
then again came the dread sound of wood against 
leather. This time, though, the ball arched high 
and Cooper, racing back, got under it, and there 
was one down. The runner on third had no 
chance to score, or thought so. Then, when Cap¬ 
tain Dave had talked briefly but earnestly to 
Croft, that youth promptly issued one more base 
on balls, and the sacks were filled, and defeat 
loomed large on the horizon. One down, the 
bases full, and Croft going the way of the others! 
Laurie’s gaze wondered to the bench and Coach 
Mulford. And then, since to have looked at the 
bench at all without seeing it would have been 
impossible, he glimpsed the round, anxious, ear¬ 
nest countenance of Kewpie Proudtree. Laurie’s 
heart jumped out of place for possibly the twen¬ 
tieth time that afternoon, and he called to Cap¬ 
tain Dave. 

The game was held up while captain and 
catcher conferred. Finally Dave hurried across 
and hailed the coach. Another conference fol¬ 
lowed, while Farview clamored for the contest 
to go on. Then Mr. Mulford waved his hand at 
Croft, and Kewpie, very much surprised but ap- 


THE MARVELOUS CATCH 351 

parently not at all overwhelmed, walked into the 
diamond, pulling on his glove. 

There was a moment of silent amazement. 
Then Farview went delirious with delighted 
amusement. The Farview stand almost rocked 
with the laughter that emanated from it, 
laughter that came as a relief to strained nerves 
and was indulged in freely. Hillman’s, recover¬ 
ing from its first instant of amazement, cheered 
valiantly, and, cheering, took hope. After all, 
it might well be that the chubby Proudtree would 
prove no worse than Croft. It was even possi¬ 
ble that he might be an improvement on that 
youth. Meanwhile Farview laughed until tears 
came and Laurie and Kewpie- met midway of 
mound and plate. 

“Go slow, Kewpie,” said Laurie, “and follow 
the signals. Take all the time you can; hear? 
Waiting may worry them. Keep your nerve, 
son, no matter what happens. Just pretend that 
you ’re pitching to me in practice.” 

“Sure,” agreed Kewpie complacently. “Don’t 
worry about me, Nod. Let ’s go!” 

One down and three on, a hit meaning two 
runs! It was a tough situation that Kewpie 


352 


NID AND NOD 


faced. But Kewpie seemed totally unworried. 
Laurie saw and marveled. His own heart was 
thumping inside him like a small sledge-hammer. 
He wondered if Kewpie was faking that uncon¬ 
cern and would presently go to pieces like the 
others, letting in an avalanche of runs! 

But Kewpie was right. Laurie needn’t have 
worried about him. Kewpie was magnificent, if 
a boy of Kewpie’s size and proportions can ever 
be magnificent! He was as slow as cold molas¬ 
ses, yes, and his delivery elicited more amusement 
from the enemy, hut he struck out with appar¬ 
ent ease the first batsman who faced him, caused 
the next man to foul out to Captain Dave, and 
fanned the third! 

When that last of the enemy waved through 
empty air and then cast his bat from him ven¬ 
omously, Hillman’s loved Kewpie Proudtree with 
a deep and fervid passion. Hillman’s said so. 
Hillman’s rose from stand and greensward and 
cheered his name to the blue afternoon sky and 
howled and yelled and went crazy generally. And 
Kewpie moved smilingly back to the bench to sub¬ 
mit to the hugs of his companions. 

There was no scoring for the Blue in the last 


THE MARVELOUS CATCH 353 

of the eighth, for Clay was master of the situa¬ 
tion. 

Then Farview started her half of the ninth with 
desperation written large on every countenance. 
Kewpie, the unhurried, returned to his job. He 
disposed of the Farview pitcher with four deliv¬ 
eries and then faced the head of the list. That 
he would survive that inning without misadven¬ 
ture was too much to hope for. The misadven¬ 
ture came when the Farview center fielder 
slammed a ball into left field and got two bases. 
Kewpie looked, or so Laurie though, a little sur¬ 
prised and a little grieved, but he didn’t allow 
his emotions to affect his pitching. He fooled 
the next man twice with his out-drop and finally 
finished him with a, slow ball that the batter 
struck at too soon. Hillman’s shouted, waved, 
and prepared to go home. 

But the end was not yet. Up came the Far¬ 
view captain, and he made it plain to Laurie at 
once that he was n’t to be caught with trifles. 
He demanded good ones. If he didn’t get them 
he wouldn’t swing. He didn’t say all this in 
words, of course, but he looked it and showed it 
by calmly watching Kewpie’s first offering drop 


354 


NID AND NOD 


by him, a scant inch beyond the outer corner of 
the plate. In the end, he had his way. There 
was something that suited him, and he accepted 
it and drove it down third base line, scoring the 
man on second and placing himself on third when 
the throw went to the plate. Those who had 
wandered toward the exits reconsidered and 
stayed their steps. With a runner on third the 
score might yet be tied. 

The Farview right fielder had not yet made a 
hit, but that to Laurie’s thinking made him the 
more dangerous, and Laurie worked very care¬ 
fully. Kewpie answered the first signal with a 
straight one over the center of the plate, and 
it went for a strike. The next was also over the 
center, but too high. Then again Kewpie failed. 
One and two now. The runner on third was 
dashing up and down the path, and the 
coachers were yipping like mad. Kewpie, how¬ 
ever remained surprisingly calm. To show how 
calm he was he sent in a drop that scored a sec¬ 
ond strike for him, and the blue pennants waved 
triumphantly. Laurie called for the same thing 
again, but this time the hatter did not offer at it; 
the score was two and three, and Laurie’s heart 


THE MARVELOUS CATCH 355 

sank. The next must be good. He placed his 
hands out and called imploringly: 

“ Right into the old mitt, Kewpie! Make it 
good!” 

And Kewpie made it good, and, since it was 
good, unmistakably good, the Farview youth 
swung against it with all his might. 

But he hit under it, and the ball went up and 
up in the sunlight almost straight above the 
plate. Cries arose from all sides, a confusing 
bedlam of warning, entreaty, command. Laurie 
dashed his mask behind him, stared upward into 
the blue, saw the gray sphere poised overhead, 
turned and stepped back, looked again, again re¬ 
treated. He was under it now—almost. One 
step further toward the back-stop— 

Then Nemesis took a hand, or sought to. 
Laurie’s backward placed foot found the dis¬ 
carded mask. He strove to retain his balance 
but could not and fell backward to the ground. 
The mask described a curve and landed yards 
away. Laurie’s feet flew heavenward. His 
hands were stretched wide. Then his startled 
gaze saw a new danger. Right above him was 
the ball, falling straight for his face. Nothing 


356 


NID AND NOD 


save pure instinct, the instinct that causes one to 
fend off a blow, brought his hands up before him. 
It was, however, not so much instinct as baseball 
training that brought them there palms upward. 
And, beyond any doubt, it was training that 
caused his fingers to close convulsively about the 
round object that landed with a loud smack in 
the hollow of his old brown mitten! 

The Graduation Ball was over, and as the twins 
walked homeward with Polly and Mae twelve 
o’clock struck from the tower of the Congrega¬ 
tional Church across the park. There was a big 
round moon riding high in the heavens, and the 
June night was warm and scented. Mae was to 
spend the night with Polly, and so the four kept 
together across Walnut Street and past the Star¬ 
ling house where, on the second floor, one lighted 
window proclaimed the presence of Bob. Even 
as Ned proposed a discreet hail, the light behind 
the shade went out. 

“It was a lovely dance, wasn’t it!” asked 
Polly. Laurie, beside her, assented. “It’s 
been a perfectly gorgeous day,” added Polly. 
“All of it. It was such fun this morning at 


THE MARVELOUS CATCH 357 

Miss Comfort’s. And that Mr. Goupil is a dar¬ 
ling duck, is n’t he ? And, oh, won’t it be per¬ 
fectly corking next fall, Laurie, when we have 
the boat for our own? Think of the good times 
we can have! It was wonderful of Miss Com¬ 
fort to think of it.” 

“Bet you anything,” chuckled Laurie, “she ’ll 
wish herself back there. Dare say she won’t be 
able to sleep on shore again after a summer on 
the rolling deep!” 

Polly laughed. “She’s a dear, isn’t she? 
And, Laurie, didn’t everything turn out beau¬ 
tifully this spring? Think how we 1 reclaimed’ 
Kewpie and—” 

“Heard Kewpie’s latest? He told Ned and 
me before supper that he might not be able to 
play football next fall because he didn’t want to 
risk hurting his pitching arm! He’s a rare bird, 
that Kewpie!” 

“Oh, he must play football! But he will, of 
course. Wasn’t he splendid this afternoon? 
And—and weren’t you splendid, too? I just 
shrieked and shrieked when you made that per¬ 
fectly wonderful catch and saved the game!” 

“I didn’t save the game,” answered Laurie. 


NID AND NOD 


358 

4 

“I dare say that fellow would have struck out in 
another minute. Anyhow, Kewpie says he would 
have!” 

“But Kewpie does n’t know, and if he had made 
a hit it would have tied the score at least. Any¬ 
how, your catch was absolutely marvelous. Ev¬ 
ery one says so.” 

A short silence followed. Then Laurie said res¬ 
olutely: “Look here, I guess you might as 
well know the truth about that, Polly. I didn’t 
really make that catch.” 

“Why, what do you meant I aaw you make 
it!” 

“Yes, I know, but—well you see, I didn’t 
intend to do it. I saw that ball coming down 
straight for the end of my nose, and I just put 
my hands up to ward it off. Of course every one 
thinks I’m a regular wonder, but I’m not. It 
was just an accident. I—I have n’t told any one 
but Ned—and you.” 

“That doesn’t spoil it a bit,” declared Polly. 
“You did catch the ball, didn’t you? And if 
you’d just been trying to keep it from hitting 
you you wouldn’t have really caught it, would 
you?” 


THE MARVELOUS CATCH 359 

“That ’s what Ned said,” mused Laurie. 
“Hanged if I know!” 

“Ned ’s perfectly right,” responded Polly em¬ 
phatically. 

“Of course I am,” said Ned as he and Mae 

> 

joined them before the door of the little shop. 
“But what is it this time?” 

“Never mind,” said Polly. “You can ask 
Laurie.” 

“He probably won’t tell me,” said Ned 
gloomily. “He hates to say I ’m right about 
anything. Gee, Polly, it seems funny to think 
that I won’t see this place again for three 
months.” 

“It’s horrid,” answered Polly, and Mae mur¬ 
mured agreement. “Still, I suppose three 
months won’t seem awfully long. And you will 
write, won’t you?” 

“Certainly will,” asserted Ned. “And don’t 
you forget to. But we ’ll see you both in the 
morning. We don’t get away until eleven 
twenty-two. Thanks for coming to the dance.” 

“Thanks for asking us,” said Polly, her hand 
on the door. “Good night. Good night, Laurie. 
We’ve had a lovely time.” 


360 


NID AND NOD 


“Same here,” said Laurie as he tugged at 
Ned’s sleeve. 

Ned joined him at the edge of the sidewalk, 
and they took their caps off and bowed in the 
manner of Mr. Goupil. 

“Beneath yon moon’s effulgent light —” 

“We, Nid and Nod, wish you Good Night!” 



















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